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STATE  NpEMAL  SCHOOL 

LOS  ANGELES.  CALU<-6RNiA 


THE 


STORY  OF  THE   RHINEGOLD 


{DER    RING    DES    NIBELUNGEN) 


^olD  for  l!?oung  people 


BY 


ANNA    ALICE    CHAPIN 


ILLUSTRATED 


7t^f 


NEW    YORK    AND    LONDON 
HARPER    &    BROTHERS    PUBLISHERS 


1899 


Copyright,  i8g7,  by  Harper  &  Brothers. 


v4//  rights  rcserx'cd. 


Music 
Library 

ML 

3730 

STATE-N0R-r:!A-L  SGHOOL,"' "' ''  '^ '-' "" 

UOS  A^iCE'_:l:C,  CH.I1. 


TO 
THE  MASTER'S  DAUGHTER 

EVA  WAGNER 

WITH     HEARTFELT     GRATITUDE 

FOR   HER   KINDNESS   AND   ENCOURAGEMENT 

THIS   BOOK 

"00  Dc&lcateD 


PREFACE 


The  Story  of  the  RJiinegold  contains  the  four 
operas  of  Richard  Wagner's  "  Nibelungen  Ring," 
arranged  for  young  people.  The  "  Nibelun- 
gen Ring,"  or  "  Nibelungen  Cycle,"  is  built 
upon  a  colossal  foundation  :  a  number  of  the 
great  Teutonic  myths,  welded  together  with  the 
most  masterly  skill  and  consistency.  It  is  evi- 
dent that  Wagner,  like  William  Morris  and  other 
writers,  has  taken  from  the  fragmentary  mytho- 
logical tales  such  material  as  would  serve  his 
purpose,  adapting  such  incidents  as  he  chose  and 
as  he  considered  appropriate  to  liis  work.  But 
there  are  so  many  different  versions  of  these  old 
stories  that  it  is  very  difficult  to  trace  Wagner's 
plot  to  its  original  birthplace.  The  various 
tales  contained  in  the  ancient  sagas  are  so  seem- 
ingly contradictory  that  anything  connectedly 
authoritative  appears  impossible  to  trace.     The 


vi  Preface 

one  thing  which  seems  to  remain  the  same  in 
almost  all  versions  of  the  stories,  ancient  and 
modern,  is  the  background  of  mythology,  that 
great,  gloomy  cycle  of  gods,  with  the  ever-recur- 
ring note  of  Fate  which  seems  to  have  im- 
pressed all  searchers  in  myths  alike,  and  which 
inspired  Wagner  when  he  formed  his  mystical, 
solemn  Fate  motif. 

Odin,  Wuotan,  Wodin,  or  Wotan,  according 
to  the  different  names  given  him  in  the  old  le- 
gends, is  the  central  figure  in  the  framework. 
If  I  read  the  story  aright,  the  Norns,  or  more 
properly  Nornir,  are  next  in  importance.  They 
and  their  mother,  the  Vala,  are  the  medium 
through  which  the  relentless  something  behind 
the  gods  made  itself  felt  in  the  world.  The 
three  sisters  are  named  respectively  Urdr,  Ver- 
dandi,  and  Skuld — freely  translated  Past,  Pres- 
ent, and  Future ;  or,  as  they  were  once  styled,  as 
correctly  perhaps,  Was,  Is,  and  Shall  Be.  It  is 
a  question  whether  Erda  and  Urdr,  the  oldest 
Norn,  might  not  originally  have  been  identical. 
Dr.  Hueffer  speaks  of  Erda  as  the  "  Mother  of 
Gods  and  Men,"  but  though  "the  Vala"  is 
often  found  in  mythology,  the  name  Erda  is  rare- 
ly mentioned,  whereas  the  titles  for  the  three 
Norns  seem  to  be  unquestionably  correct.     The 


Preface  vii 

term  Vala  is  usually  translated  as  Witch,  or 
Witch-wife,  but,  though  a  Vala  was  indeed  a  sor- 
ceress, she  was  a  prophetess  as  well. 

A  step  lower  than  the  gods,  yet  gifted  with 
supernatural  power  and  far  removed  from  the 
characteristics  of  human  beings,  were  the  dwarfs 
and  the  giants.  The  giants,  we  are  told,  were 
creatures  belonging  properly  to  the  Age  of 
Stone,  which  explains  the  fact  that  there  were 
left  but  two  representatives  of  the  race  at  the 
time  of  the  Golden  Age.  The  dwarfs  come 
under  the  head  of  elves.  They  were  gifted 
with  the  utmost  cleverness  and  skill.  The 
giants  were  stupid  and  clumsy,  and,  save  for 
their  superhuman  strength  and  size,  entirely  in- 
ferior to  the  small,  sly  dwarfs. 

The  world  was  strangely  peopled  in  those 
days ;  many  of  the  heroes  were  demi-gods,  that 
is,  descended  from  some  god  or  goddess,  and 
witches,  dwarfs,  and  sorcerers  mingled  with  hu- 
man beings. 

Many  mortals,  also,  had  magic  power  then. 
Otter,  the  son  of  Rodmar,  changed  himself 
into  the  animal  for  which  he  was  named,  and 
while  in  the  shape  of  the  otter  he  was  caught 
and  killed  by  three  of  the  gods  who  were  wan- 
dering over  the  earth  in  disguise.     Rodmar  de- 


Viii  Preface 

manded  weregild,*  and  Loki,  with  a  net,  caught 
Andvari,  a  rich  and  mahgnant  dwarf,  and  com- 
manded him  to  pay  a  ransom  of  gold  and  gems, 
enough  to  cover  the  skin  of  the  otter ;  for 
such  was  the  weregild  demanded  by  Rodmar. 
Andvari,  of  necessity,  gave  the  gold  for  his  own 
release,  even  adding  a  wonderful  wealth-breeding 
Ring  to  cover  up  a  single  hair  in  the  skin  which 
the  rest  of  the  treasures  had  left  unconcealed. 
The  dwarf  cursed  the  Ring,  and  the  curse  attend- 
ed it  through  all  its  manifold  ways  of  magic,  to 
the  end  of  the  story. 

Rodmar's  remaining  sons,  Fafnir  and  Regin, 
killed  their  father  and  fought  for  the  treasure. 
Fafnir  obtained  it,  and,  turning  himself  into  a 
monster-worm,  went  to  Glistenheath  (sometimes 
called  Glittering  Hearth)  to  guard  his  wealth. 
Regin  called  upon  Sigurd,  a  young  hero,  to  aid 
him,  and,  being  a  master-smith,  forged  for  him 
a  sharp  sword  named  Gram.  Some  versions 
give  the  forging  of  the  sword  to  Sigurd,  but 
there  are  many  sides  to  the  story.  The  sword 
was  sometimes  called  Gram,  and  oftener  Bal- 
dung,  until.  Wagner  gave  it  the  more  expressive 

*  Weregild  is  almost  untranslatable.  It  may  mean 
payment,  tax,  forfeit,  or  ransom. 


Preface  ix 

name  of  Nothung,  or  Needful.  Prompted  by 
Regin,  Sigurd  slew  the  Dragon  at  Glistenheath, 
and,  after  tasting  the  blood  by  accident,  was 
able  to  understand  the  language  of  birds,  and 
was  told  by  two  of  Odin's  ravens  that  Regin  was 
treacherous.  After  slaying  Regin,  Sigurd  rode 
away  with  two  bundles  of  the  treasures  slung 
across  his  horse's  back.  He  found  and  awak- 
ened Brynhildr,  a  beautiful  woman  asleep  in  a 
house  on  a  hill.  (She  is  known  in  the  different 
tales  in  which  she  has  figured  as  Brynhildr,  Brun- 
hild, Brunehault,  and  Briinnhilde.)  The  next 
part  of  the  tale  is  most  clearly  set  forth  in  the 
"  Nibelungenlied,"  an  epic  poem  in  Middle  High 
German  dialect,  containing  a  story  —  or,  more 
correctly,  a  series  of  stories  —  which  originally 
belonged  to  the  entire  Teutonic  people.  These 
have  been  found  in  multitudinous  poems  and 
sagas,  from  those  written  by  the  ancient  Norse- 
men, and  most  primitive  in  form,  to  the  modern 
books,  essays,  and  poems  of  writers  who  have 
been  impressed  with  the  interesting  and  pictur- 
esque aspects  of  the  strange,  complicated  old 
story.  The  "Nibelungenlied"  itself  deals  rather 
with  the  period  of  Christianity — with  the  knights 
and  ladies  of  the  time  of  chivalry — than  with  the 
primeval  gods  and  heroes  of  the  Golden  Age. 


X  Preface 

The  substance  of  its  contents  may  be  found  in  the 
"  Edda  "  and  in  the  "  Thidrekssaga  "  (thirteenth 
century),  and  the  original  manuscripts  of  the 
"Nibelungenlied  "  itself  date  from  the  thirteenth 
to  the  sixteenth  century. 

The  story  contained  in  this  poem  is,  briefly 
told,  as  follows : 

Siegfried,  son  of  Siegmund  and  Sieglind, 
woos  Kreimhild,  the  sister  of  King  Gunther,  of 
Burgundy,  promising,  in  return  for  her  hand,  to 
aid  Gunther  in  winning  Brunhild,  Queen  of  Iss- 
land  (Iceland).  Siegfried,  with  the  help  of  his 
cloud  -  cloak,  conquers  Brunhild  for  Gunther — 
first  in  three  athletic  games,  which  she  makes  a 
test  for  all  suitors ;  and  later  when,  after  the 
marriage,  she  proves  stormy  and  untamed.  He 
takes  her  Ring  and  girdle,  and  gives  them  to  his 
wife,  Kreimhild.  They  possess  magic  proper- 
ties, and  Brunhild,  when  deprived  of  them,  loses 
her  great  power  and  becomes  like  any  ordinary 
woman.  She  sees  her  Ring  on  Kreimhild's  hand 
one  day,  and,  realizing  that  it  is  Siegfried,  and 
not  her  husband  Gunther,  who  has  conquered 
her  great  strength  and  stolen  her  magic  circlets, 
she  tells  her  wrongs  to  Hagan,  who  promises  re- 
venge. Hagan  is  the  Knight  of  Trony,  and  he 
and  his  brother  Dankwort  are  Gunther's  vassals. 


Preface  xi 

Hagan  entices  Kreimhild  to  reveal  to  him  the 
secret  of  her  husband's  safety  in  battle,  and  she 
tells  him  that  Siegfried  once  slew  a  dragon  and 
bathed  in  the  blood,  which  made  him  invulnera- 
ble, save  in  one  place,  between  his  shoulders, 
where  a  leaf  fell,  protecting  the  skin  from  the 
blood.  Kreimhild  is  entirely  deceived  by  Ha- 
gan, and,  not  suspecting  his  treachery,  she  sews 
a  circle  of  silk  upon  her  husband's  vesture  over 
the  vulnerable  spot,  that  Hagan  may  better 
know  how  to  protect  the  hero's  one  weakness 
when  they  are  in  battle.  It  is  there,  where  the 
circle  of  silk  is  sewn,  that  Hagan  stabs  him. 

There  is  much  more  in  the  "  Nibelungenlied," 
and  a  character  famous  in  poesy  and  sagas  is  in- 
troduced later  in  the  poem — Atli,  or  Attila,  King 
of  the  Huns;  but  he  has  nothing  to  do  with  our 
story,  though  some  one  has  drawn  a  resem- 
blance between  his  character  and  that  of  Hun- 
ding.  The  "  Nibelungenlied,"  after  Siegfried's 
death,  contains  very  little  connected  in  any  way 
with  Wagner's  four  operas. 

There  are  other  versions  of  this  tale,  as  there 
are  of  all  ancient  stories.  There  are  many  tales 
of  the  killing  of  the  Dragon  and  the  awakening 
of  Brunhild,  and  the  personality  and  history  of 
the  latter  have  passed  under  diverse  alterations 


X  Preface 

The  substance  of  its  contents  may  be  found  in  the 
"  Edda  "  and  in  the  "  Thidrekssaga  "  (thirteenth 
century),  and  the  original  manuscripts  of  the 
"Nibelungenlied  "  itself  date  from  the  thirteenth 
to  the  sixteenth  century. 

The  story  contained  in  this  poem  is,  briefly 
told,  as  follows : 

Siegfried,  son  of  Siegmund  and  Sieglind, 
woos  Kreimhild,  the  sister  of  King  Gunther,  of 
Burgundy,  promising,  in  return  for  her  hand,  to 
aid  Gunther  in  winning  Brunhild,  Queen  of  Iss- 
land  (Iceland).  Siegfried,  with  the  help  of  his 
cloud -cloak,  conquers  Brunhild  for  Gunther — 
first  in  three  athletic  games,  which  she  makes  a 
test  for  all  suitors ;  and  later  when,  after  the 
marriage,  she  proves  stormy  and  untamed.  He 
takes  her  Ring  and  girdle,  and  gives  them  to  his 
wife,  Kreimhild.  They  possess  magic  proper- 
ties, and  Brunhild,  when  deprived  of  them,  loses 
her  great  power  and  becomes  like  any  ordinary 
woman.  She  sees  her  Ring  on  Kreimhild's  hand 
one  day,  and,  realizing  that  it  is  Siegfried,  and 
not  her  husband  Gunther,  who  has  conquered 
her  great  strength  and  stolen  her  magic  circlets, 
she  tells  her  wrongs  to  Hagan,  who  promises  re- 
venge. Hagan  is  the  Knight  of  Trony,  and  he 
and  his  brother  Dankwort  are  Gunther's  vassals. 


Preface  xi 

Hagan  entices  Kreimhild  to  reveal  to  him  the 
secret  of  her  husband's  safety  in  battle,  and  she 
tells  him  that  Siegfried  once  slew  a  dragon  and 
bathed  in  the  blood,  which  made  him  invulnera- 
ble, save  in  one  place,  between  his  shoulders, 
where  a  leaf  fell,  protecting  the  skin  from  the 
blood.  Kreimhild  is  entirely  deceived  by  Ha- 
gan, and,  not  suspecting  his  treachery,  she  sews 
a  circle  of  silk  upon  her  husband's  vesture  over 
the  vulnerable  spot,  that  Hagan  may  better 
know  how  to  protect  the  hero's  one  weakness 
when  they  are  in  battle.  It  is  there,  where  the 
circle  of  silk  is  sewn,  that  Hagan  stabs  him. 

There  is  much  more  in  the  "  Nibelungenlied," 
and  a  character  famous  in  poesy  and  sagas  is  in- 
troduced later  in  the  poem — Atli,  or  Attila,  King 
of  the  Huns;  but  he  has  nothing  to  do  with  our 
story,  though  some  one  has  drawn  a  resem- 
blance between  his  character  and  that  of  Hun- 
ding.  The  "  Nibelungenlied,"  after  Siegfried's 
death,  contains  very  little  connected  in  any  way 
with  Wagner's  four  operas. 

There  are  other  versions  of  this  tale,  as  there 
are  of  all  ancient  stories.  There  are  many  tales 
of  the  killing  of  the  Dragon  and  the  awakening 
of  Brunhild,  and  the  personality  and  history  of 
the  latter  have  passed  under  diverse  alterations 


xii  Preface 

in  color  and  development.  One  story  says  that 
Brynhildr,  the  Valkyrie,  was  made  to  slumber 
by  her  father  Odin,  who  pricked  her  in  the  temple 
with  a  sleep-thorn.  Many  writers  tell  of  a  fire- 
circle  which  surrounded  the  sleeper  and  guarded 
her  slumbers.  She  is  known  as  a  great  queen, 
a  woman  gifted  with  magic  powers,  and  a  dis- 
obedient Walkiire  in  different  tales ;  and  her 
character  changes  as  constantly  as  her  history 
in  the  various  legends  where  we  read  of  her. 
Sigurd,  Siegfried,  and  Sinfiotli  are,  in  many 
respects,  so  similar  that  they  might  safely  be 
termed  identical,  though  sometimes,  as  in  Will- 
iam Morris's  "  Sigurd,  the  Volsung,"  they  ap- 
pear as  distinct  characters. 

Out  of  this  confused  and  complicated  sea  of 
myths,  legends,  and  old  Norse  stories  Wagner 
has  drawn  the  material  for  his  wonderful  cycle. 

His  gods  and  goddesses  are  taken,  with  very 
few  changes,  directly  from  their  original  place — 
the  Teutonic  mythology.  His  giants  and  dwarfs 
are  also  unaltered  as  complete  races.  In  his  usage 
of  them  he  difTers  in  some  respects  from  the  older 
stories. 

Fafnir,  the  son  of  Rodmar,  becomes  the  giant 
Fafner,  and  his  brother  Fasolt  is  added.  Regin 
is  transformed  into  Mime,  the  master-smith.     In- 


Preface  xiii 

stead  of  Otter,  who  must  be  covered  by  gems, 
we  have  the  love  goddess  Friea,  and  instead  of 
the  hair  which  the  Ring  must  cover  in  the  old 
legend,  it  is  in  Wagner's  adaptation  one  of  Friea's 
beautiful  eyes.  Fafner  hides  in  Hate  Hole  in- 
stead of  upon  Glistenheath,  and  is  killed  by 
Siegfried  instead  of  Sigurd.  The  lonely  Walkiires' 
Rock  takes  the  place  of  the  house  on  the  hill, 
and  instead  of  being  made  invulnerable  by  the 
Dragon's  blood,  Siegfried  is  protected  by  Briinn- 
hilde's  spells — a  fancy  which  seems  more  poetic 
and  beautiful,  but  which  originates,  I  believe, 
entirely  with  Wagner.  Gutrune  takes  the  place 
of  Kreimhild,  and  Hagan  is  not  Gunther's  vassal, 
but  his  half-brother.  These  are,  after  all,  appar- 
ently slight  changes,  yet  to  Wagner's  cycle  a  new 
poetry  seems  to  have  come.  The  barbaric  aspects 
of  the  tale  have  faded,  and  all  the  simple  beauty 
of  those  wild,  noble  gods  and  demi-gods  has 
gleamed  forth  as  gloriously  as  the  wonderful 
Rhinegold,  which  the  master  has  made  next  in 
importance  to  the  gods  and  the  dusk  of  their 
splendor. 

Before  going  further,  perhaps  it  might  be  well 
to  say  a  few  words  of  explanation  as  to  the  mo- 
tifs which  form  the  key-notes  of  Wagner's  great 
musical  dramas. 


xiv  Preface 

When  he  set  his  poem  of  the  Nibelungen 
Ring  to  music,  he  was  not  satisfied  with  merely 
beautiful  airs  and  harmonies  linked  together  with' 
no  purpose  save  the  lovely  sounds.  He  wished, 
above  all,  to  have  his  music  fit  his  words ;  and 
for  every  character  and  thought  and  incident, 
and  indeed  for  almost  everything  in  his  operas, 
he  wrote  a  melody,  and  these  descriptive  musical 
phrases  are  called  motifs.  Each  one  has  its  mean- 
ing, and  when  it  is  played  it  brings  the  thought 
of  what  it  describes  and  represents,  and  it  makes 
a  double  language — what  the  characters  on  the 
stage  are  saying  and  what  the  music  is  saying,  as 
well.  Through  the  motifs  we  understand  many 
things  which  we  could  not  possibly  comprehend 
otherwise. 

That  Wagner  wished  to  give  the  impression 
that  Erda  was  the  mother  of  all  beings,  divine 
and  human,  at  the  beginning  of  the  world,  he  has 
shown  by  the  fact  that  the  motif  of  the  Primal 
Element — the  commencement  of  all  things — is 
identical  with  hers,  save  that  where  she  is  indi- 
cated the  melody  takes  a  minor  coloring,  denot- 
ing her  character  of  mystery  as  well  as  the  gloom 
in  which  her  prophetic  powers  must  necessarily 
envelop  her.  The  contrasting,  yet  harmonizing, 
elements  of  earth  and  water  are  also  shadowed 


Preface  xv 

forth,  I  think,  in  this  motif  of  the  Primal  Ele- 
ment, which  is  used  for  the  Rhine,  and  also  for 
the  Goddess  of  the  Earth.  When  the  Vala's 
daughters — the  Nornir — are  mirrored  in  the  mu- 
sic, the  same  melody  appears,  fraught  with  the 
waving,  weaving  sound  of  their  mystic  spinning. 

The  motifs  in  Wagner's  operas  are,  above  all, 
descriptive.  For  example,  note  the  Walhalla, 
Nibelung,  and  Giant  motifs, 

The  first  of  these,  full  of  power,  substance,  and 
dignity,  not  only  is  descriptive  of  the  great  palace 
itself,  but  also  represents  the  entire  race  of  gods 
who  inhabit  it,  seemingly  secure  in  their  conscious 
glory  and  sovereignty.  To  indicate  Wotan,  the 
King  of  the  gods  and  the  ruler  in  Walhalla, 
Wagner  has  constantly  made  use  of  this  motif. 

Its  melody  is  measured,  strong,  and  simple,  and 
the  nobility  of  those  worshipped  gods  of  primeval 
years  seems  to  breathe  through  it. 

The  Nibelungs  were  so  intimately  associated 
with  their  work  that  they  were  scarcely  more 
than  living  machines — soulless  exponents  of  the 
art  of  the  forge  and  the  anvil ;  so  when  we  hear 
in  the  music  the  beat  of  hammers — the  sharp, 
metallic  clang  in  measured  time,  our  first 
thought  is  that  the  hammers  are  swung  by  the 
Nibelungs.     How  cramped  is  their  melody,  how 


xvi  Preface 

monotonous  and  hopeless  is  the  regular  fall  of 
the  hammers !  When  we  hear  it  hushed  and 
veiled  with  discords,  we  seem  to  come  in  con- 
tact with  the  narrow,  darkened  souls  of  the 
Nibelungs. 

And  now  we  come  to  the  motif  of  the 
giants. 

It  is,  like  themselves,  heavy,  lumbering,  with  a 
slur  that  is  like  the  stumbling  of  heavy  feet. 
Clumsy  and  ungraceful,  it  and  what  it  represents 
cross  the  idyllic  beauty  of  the  motifs  of  Friea, 
V/alhalla,  the  Ring,  the  Rhinegold,  and  the  rest, 
with  a  harsh  and  disagreeable  sense  of  an  in- 
harmonious element.  How  different  from  the 
majestic  gods,  and  the  clever,  smalhsouled  Nib- 
elungs, are  these  great  creatures  who  are  all 
bodies  and  no  brains,  and  who  are  so  ably  repre- 
sented by  the  music  allotted  them  in  the  operas ! 
Yet,  in  their  own  way,  they  and  their  motif  are 
extremely  picturesque ! 

In  these  three  motifs  we  can  see  the  genius 
which  formed  them,  and  so  many  others,  even 
greater  in  conception  and  execution.  Scattered 
throughout  TJie  Story  of  the  Rhinegold  will  be 
found  a  few  of  these  motifs — only  a  few  and  not 
the  most  lovely  —  but  enough  I  think  to  help 
one,  in  a  small  way,  to  follow  the   operas  with 


Preface  xvii 

more  interest  and  understanding  than  if  one  did 
not  know  them. 

One  of  the  simplest  motifs  in  the  book  is  one 
of  the  most  important :  the  Rhinegold  motif. 
It  is  like  the  blowing  of  a  fairy  horn  heralding  to 
the  world  of  sprites  and  elves  the  magic  wonder 
in  the  river. 

In  the  olden  days  they  had  a  lovely  legend  of 
the  formation  of  the  Rhinegold.  They  said 
that  the  sun's  rays  poured  down  inta  the  Rhine 
so  brilliantly  every  day  that,  through  some 
magic — no  one  knew  exactly  how — the  glowing 
reflection  became  bright  and  beautiful  gold, 
filled  with  great  mystic  powers  because  of  its 
glorious  origin — the  sunshine. 

And  that  was  the  beginning  of  the  Rhine- 
gold. 

A.  A.  C. 


CONTENTS 


part  If 

THE   RHINEGOLD,  or  DAS  RHEINGOLD 

PAGB 

Prelude 3 

CHAPTER 

I.  The  Rhine  Maidens 8 

II.  Fasolt  and  Fafner 13 

III.    NiBELHEIM 18 

IV.  The  Rainbow  Bridge 24 

Ipart  HH 

THE  WARRIOR  GODDESS,  or  DIE  WALKHrE 
Prelude 33 

CHAPTER 

I.  The  House  of  Hunding <>    ,    .     .     37 

II.  The  Daughter  of  Wotan 45 

III.  BrOnnhilde's  Punishment      .  54 


Ipart  flUH 

SIEGFRIED 
Prelude 63 


XX  Contents 

CHAPTER  FA6B 

I.  Siegfried  and  Mime     ..........  67 

II.  Hate  Hole 79 

III.  The  Mountain  Pass 83 

IV.  The  WalkOres'  Rock 95 


Ipart  1fD 

THE    DUSK    OF    THE    GODS,    or    COTTER- 
DAMMERUNG 

Prelude .     103 

CHAPTER 

I.  The  Hall  of  the  Gibichungs 107 

II.  The  Walkltres'  Rock  Once  More 113 

III.  The  Rhine  Chief's  Bride 118 

IV.  On  the  Banks  of  the  Rhine 124 

V.  The  Last  Twilight 133 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


WOTAN   AND   BrOnNHILDE       .       ,       ,       . 
THE   GLEAMING    TREASURE        .... 

A   WARRIOR   GODDESS 

THE  WALKORE  APPEARS  .  ,  ,  .  . 
SIEGFRIED  AT  THE  FORGE  .... 
THE  DEATH  OF  THE  DRAGON  .  .  . 
BRCNNHILDE  on  THE  WALKljRES'  ROCK 
GUTRUNE  AND  SIEGFRIED  .... 
BRUNNHILDE  AND  SIEGFRIED  ... 
GUNTHER   AND    BRUNNHILDE .... 

HAGEN   AND    SIEGFRIED , 

AFTER   SIEGFRIED'S   DEATH      .       ,      ,      . 


Fyant{s/iiect 


Fact 


"S  P- 


lO 

34 
50 
76 
82 
104 
no 

116 

122 
123 
130 


.  ipact  IF 

THE  RHINEGOLD,  or  DAS  RHEINGOLD 


.  ©art  H 
THE  RHINEGOLD,  OR  DAS  RHEINGOLD 


/ 


79*^f 


1  .  r? 


MotH"  of  the  Rhinegold 


PRELUDE 


We  have,  all  of  us,  read  of  the  Golden  Age, 
when  the  gods  ruled  over  the  world,  and  giants 
and  dragons,  dwarfs  and  water-fairies  inhabited 
the  earth  and  mingled  with  mortals.  The  giants 
were  then  a  strong,  stupid  race,  more  rough  than 
cruel,  and,  as  a  rule,  generous  among  themselves. 
They  were  very  foolish  creatures,  and  constantly 
did  themselves  and  others  harm  ;  but  their  race, 
even  at  that  time,  was  dying  out,  and  there  were 
left  of  ■■  -  two  brothers,  Fasoit  and  Fafner. 

The  dwarfs,  or  Nibelungs,  were  entirely  differ- 
ent. They  were  small  and  misshapen,  but  very 
shrewd,  and  so  skilful  were  their  fingers  that 
they  were  able  to  do  the  most  difificult  work  in 
the  finest  metals.  They  lived  in  an  underground 
country  called  Nibelheim  (Home  of  the  Dwarfs), 
where  they  collected  hoards  of  gold  and  gems, 
and  strange  treasures  of  all  kinds ;  and  Alberich 
was  one  of  them.     He  was  a  hideous  creature, 


4  The  Story  of^the  Rhinegold 

so  dark  and  evil-looking,  with  his  small,  wicked 
eyes  and  his  hair  and  beard  the  color  of  ink, 
that  he  was  always  called  Black  Alberich  —  a 
very  suitable  name. 

As  for  the  dragons,  they  were  rare  even  in 
those  days,  and  though  we  shall  have  to  deal 
with  one  by-and-by  when  we  are  further  on  in 
my  story,  I  shall  not  say  much  about  them  now. 

The  water- fairies  were  beautiful  spirits  who 
lived  in  the  depths  of  the  river  Rhine.  They 
were  simple  and  innocent,  as  became  children  of 
the  Golden  Age,  and  very  lovely  to  look  upon. 
In  the  peaceful  twilight -land  under  the  water 
they  were  perfectly  happy,  dancing  in  and  out 
among  the  rocks  at  the  river  bottom,  and  sing- 
ing soft  songs,  which,  when  wafted  up  to  the 
surface  of  the  Rhine,  sounded  like  the  faint 
sighing  ripple  of  the  river  as  it  r:.lled  onward 
through  the  valleys  and  the  woods. 

And  the  water-fairies  had  one  great  happi- 
ness in  their  quiet,  shadowed  lives.  I  will  tell  you 
what  it  was  :  On  the  top  of  a  tall  black  rock  in  the 
river  Rhine  there  rested  a  magical  treasure,  more 
wonderful  than  any  of  the  Nibelung  hoards,  or 
the  possessions  of  the  gods  themselves — a  bright, 
beautiful  Gold,  the  radiance  of  which  was  so  great 
that  when  the  sun  shone  down  into  the  river  and 


Prelude  5 

touched  it  the  gray- green  water  was  filled  with 
golden  light  from  depth  to  depth,  and  the  fairies 
of  the  Rhine  circled  about  their  treasure,  singing 
and  laughing  with  delight. 

What  a  wonderful  time  it  must  have  been — the 
Golden  Age — when  such  things  were  possible  ! 

You  smile  and  say  that  they  were  not  possible, 
even  then  !  Remember  that  this  is  a  fairy  tale — 
a  day-dream — such  as  might  come  to  you  while 
watching  the  sunlit  ripples  dancing  on  the  water, 
and  hearing  the  little  waves  lapping  on  the  peb- 
bles— a  fairy  tale,  that  is  all. 

The  Golden  Age,  as  I  think  of  it,  seems  a  pe- 
riod in  which  anything  might  have  happened. 
Closing  my  eyes,  I  can  picture  the  majestic  gods 
moving,  great  kings  and  queens  among  human 
beings ;  great  kings  and  queens  made  young  by 
Friea's  apples  of  youth.  Friea  was  the  Goddess 
of  Love,  Youth,  and  Beauty.  She  was  the  same 
as  Venus,  the  Roman  goddess,  called  Aphrodite 
by  the  Greeks,  of  whom,  perhaps,  you  have  read 
elsewhere.  All  that  I  am  writing  about  happen- 
ed, you  know,  in  Germany ;  and  to  the  people 
there  the  gods — or  rather  men's  ideas  of  them, 
and  their  names  for  them — were  different  from 
those  of  other  lands. 

So  the  King  God,  instead  of  being  Jupiter,  or 


6  TJie  Story  of  the  Rhine  gold 

Zeus,  or  Jove,  was  called  Wotan,  or  sometimes 
Odin.  And  the  Queen  Goddess  was  neither  Juno 
nor  Here,  but  Fricka;  and  the  wild  Thunder  God 
was  Thor ;  and  the  Goddess  of  the  Earth  Erda, 
which  means  the  earth.  She  was  the  wisest  of 
all  the  gods  and  goddesses  (though  Logi,  the 
Fire  God,  was  the  quickest  and  cleverest),  and 
she  could  prophesy  strange  things  about  the 
gods  and  the  world,  and  everything  happened 
just  as  she  prophesied. 

She  would  sink  into  the  earth  and  dream,  and 
all  her  dreams  came  true.  She  would  tell  them 
to  her  daughters,  the  three  Norns,  or  Fates,  and 
they  would  weave  them  into  a  long  golden 
thread,  into  which  they  had  spun  the  world's 
history. 

They  spun  under  a  great  ash-tree  which  grew 
by  the  Fountain  of  Wisdom,  and  was  called  the 
Tree  of  the  World. 

One  day  Wotan,  the  king  of  the  gods,  came  to 
the  fountain  for  a  draught  of  the  Water  of  Wis- 
dom. He  drank,  and  left  one  of  his  "^yes  in 
payment.  He  tore  a  limb  from  the  World-Ash 
and  made  it  into  a  spear ;  and  the  spear,  having 
strange  figures  upon  it  representing  Law  and 
Knowledge,  was  typical  of  the  wisdom  and  pow- 
er of  the  gods,  and  so  long  as  that  wisdom  and 


Prelude  7 

that  power  endured  no  sword  could  break  the 
spear  nor  could  remain  whole  at  its  touch. 

But  the  World -Ash,  robbed  of  its  branches, 
withered  away  and  died,  and  the  Fountain  of 
Wisdom  became  dry. 

And  these  things  were  the  beginning  of  the 
end  of  the  Golden  Age.  But  wise  people  say 
that  the  Golden  Age  did  not  end  until  men 
began  to  value  gold  for  its  own  sake  and  the 
love  of  gain,  and  to  do  wrong  things  to  possess 
it.    And  now  I  will  tell  you  how  it  all  happened. 


Motif  of  the  Primal  Element, 


^ 


-1*- 


?="&-:E 


JS|»- 


m^. 


out  of  which  come  the  Erda,  Norn,  and  Rhine  Motifs 


Song  of  the  Rhine  Maidens 


vy^ — • ^ r 

-> -^ — L_ 

N-1 

•     -7  K                            i              * 

'              \           '           m                  ■       f 

tTv^                    J-         1 

r     1 

m          1        *        •  .. 

• 

1-. ;                   ^      \          ' ,    1 

J                                       1 

Wei    -    a      wa    - 

n     U                     r. 

ga,    wa  -  ver  -  ing     wa   ■ 

-  ters. 

J    r)                     \                ^ 

r       ^ 

• 

yO       7   L            «             J            ^            , 

» 

U            i              1* 

r'i   "     1       •     1 

^       y       1 

'j 

>_ 

^ V '- 1 

weaving  and  whirl-  ing!  Wa-la  -  la    wei    -    a! 


CHAPTER   I 


THE   RHINE   MAIDENS 


At  the  bottom  of  the  river  Rhine,  about  the 
dark  rock  where  rested  the  invisible  Rhinegold, 
there  swam  one  morning  before  sunrise  the  Gold's 
fair  guardians,  the  three  children  of  the  Rhine. 
They  were  beautiful  maidens,  these  three  water- 
spirits,  the  most  lovely  of  all  the  river  people, 
and  their  names  were  Flosshilde,  Woglinde,  and 
Wellgunde.  They  were  singing  softly,  and  glanc- 
ing constantly  up  to  the  rock's  crest,  waiting  for 
the  appearance  of  the  Rhinegold,  which  could 
only  be  seen  when  the  sun  had  risen  up  above 
and  sent  its  rays  into  the  water  to  disclose  the 
treasure.  They  sang  a  little  rippling  refrain  that 
meant    nothing   except    laughter   and   joy,   and 


The  Rhine  Maideiis  9 

sounded  very  like  the  ripples  of  the  water  them- 
selves : 


"  Weia  waga — " 

sang  Woglinde, 

"Wavering  waters,  weaving  and  whirling, 
Walala  weia!" 

And  so  they  sang  on,  till  their  voices  mingled 
so  with  the  ripple  that  both  voices  and  water 
became  almost  one  in  sound. 

Now,  while  these  three  lovely  maids,  seem- 
ing almost  part  of  the  water  in  their  dresses  of 
shimmering  blue -green,  with  pale  wreaths  of 
river  flowers  in  their  hair,  and  their  white  arms 
looking  frail  as  moonbeams  as  they  raised  them 
through  the  water — while  they  moved  about  the 
rock  singing  and  laughing  together,  a  strange, 
dark  little  man  stood  near  watching  them.  He 
had  risen  out  of  a  black  chasm  in  one  of  the 
rocks,  and  he  had  come  from  far  Nibelheim, 
through  an  underground  passage.  He  had  small 
eyes,  his  hair  and  beard  were  the  color  of  ink, 
and  he  looked  very  wicked.  Can  you  guess  who 
he  was? 

He  shouted  grufifly  to  the  Rhine  Maidens,  and 
they,  being  much  amused  at  his  ugly  appearance, 


10  The  Story  of  the  RJiinegold 

drew  near  with  laughter  and  mocking  words. 
They  led  him  wild  chases  in  among  the  rocks, 
they  played  with  him  merry  games  of  hide-and- 
seek — merry  for  them,  but  not  at  all  so  for  him, 
for  he  was  clumsy  in  motion  compared  with  them, 
and  he  became  very  angry  because  he  could  not 
follow  them  over  the  rocks. 

"  Smooth,  slippery,  slush  and  slime,"  he  grum- 
bled.    "  The  dampness  makes  me  sneeze." 

At  last,  just  as  he  had  become  thoroughly 
angry,  there  appeared  suddenly  a  strange  bright- 
ness at  the  top  of  the  rock — a  wonderful  golden 
light  that  glowed  with  ever-increasing  brilliance 
down  into  the  water. 

"Ah,  see,  sisters!"  cried  Woglinde.  "The 
awakening  sun  laughs  down  into  the  depths." 

"Yes,"  said  Wellgunde,  with  soft  delight,  "it 
greets  the  slumbering  Gold  !" 

"  With  a  kiss  of  light  the  Gold  is  aroused !" 
said  Flosshilde.  And,  joining  hands,  they  swam 
excitedly  about  the  rock,  singing  in  bursts  of 
gladness : 

"  Weia  waga, 
Weia  waga, 
Rhinegold,  Rhinegold, 
Glorious  joy." 

"  You  gliders,"  questioned  Alberich  (for  it  was 


The  Rhine  Maidens  II 

he),  "  what  is  this  that  gleams  and  glistens  over 
yonder?" 

Laughing  at  his  ignorance,  the  nymphs  told 
him  that  it  was  a  magical  Gold  ;  that  whoever 
made  a  Ring  from  it  would  have  greater  power 
than  any  one  else  alive  ;  that  he  could  possess 
all  the  wealth  of  the  world  if  he  wished ;  and 
they  so  described  the  fairy  powers  of  the  treas- 
ure that  Alberich's  wicked  soul  began  to  thrill 
with  desire  to  have  it  as  his  own. 

The  sisters  further  told  him  that  the  Gold  was 
safe  from  thieves,  because  it  could  only  be  stolen 
by  some  one  who  had  made  up  his  mind  never 
to  love  any  one  except  himself  so  long  as  he 
might  live.  ^ 

"  We  have  nothing  to  fear,"  said  gentle  Wog- 
linde,  "  for  every  one  who  lives  must  love." 

But  Alberich  pondered  silently.  "All  the 
wealth  in  the  world !"  he  thought.  "  For  that 
who  would  not  give  up  love  ?"  And  he  sprang 
wildly  up  the  rocks. 

"  Listen,  waves  and  water-witches !"  he  shout- 
ed, as  he  reached  towards  the  gleaming  treasure. 
"  Never  will  I,  the  Dwarf,  give  love  to  any  creat- 
^'cclf  through  all  my  life."  And  while, 
|))?s,  the  Rhine  Maidens  hastened  near 
n,  Alberich,  the  Nibelung,  tore  the 


12  The  Story  of  the  Rhine  gold 

Rhinegold  from  the  tall,  black  rock,  and  fled  with 
it  into  the  black  chasm,  and  so  to  Nibelheim. 

And,  left  behind,  the  nymphs  could  only  wail 
for  their  lost  joy  with  sobs  and  cries  of  "  Sorrow, 
sorrow  !     Ah — to  rescue  the  Gold  !" 

But  it  was  too  late.  And  in  the  dark  hol- 
low chasm,  Alberich,  fleeing  with  the  treasure, 
laughed  at  their  despair. 


/ 
i 

,h  (for  it  was 


A   WARRIOR    GODDESS 


-o- 


*—. •- 


— — 1 — \- — *■ 


-•— # 


Motif  of  the  Giants 


^ 


^ 


.^_^^:pii:f^_r: 


It 


!«!=;• 


j»« — *- 


Motif  of  Friea 


CHAPTER   II 


FASOLT   AND   FAFNER 


One  morning  not  long  afterwards  the  rising 
sun  shone  upon  strange  things  up  among  the 
gods. 

Wotan,  and  Fricka  his  wife,  waking  upon'  the 
mountain-top  where  they  had  slept  that  night, 


14  The  Story  of  the  RJimegold 

gazed  up  to  where,  built  among  the  clouds,  the 
spires  of  a  wonderful  palace  glittered  in  the  sun- 
shine— Walhalla,  the  fair,  new  home  of  the  gods. 

It  had  been  built  at  Wotan's  command  by 
Fasolt  and  Fafner,  the  two  brother  giants,  and 
they  had  been  promised,  in  payment,  the  god- 
dess Friea.  But  Wotan  had  never  intended  giv- 
ing her  to  them,  and  so  he  told  Fricka  when 
she  spoke  anxiously  of  the  reward  promised  the 
giants,  declaring  that  the  goddess  was  as  pre- 
cious to  him  as  to  her. 

Even  as  he  spoke  Friea  rushed  wildly  in,  call- 
ing upon  him  to  save  her  from  the  rude  giants. 
In  answer,  Wotan  asked  where  Logi,  the  Fire 
God,  could  be  found,  saying  that  where  cunning 
and  craft  were  needed,  Logi  was  the  one  most 
to  be  sought  after.  But,  look  as  he  might,  the 
wayward  Fire  God  was  nowhere  to  be  seen. 

And  then  came  the  great  brothers,  bearing  huge 
clubs,  and  fiercely  clamoring  for  a  reward  for  their 
labors  in  building  Walhalla. 

"  You  slept  while  we  worked,"  they  said.  "  Now 
claim  we  our  payment." 

"What  price  do  you  demand?"  asked  Wotan. 
pretending  not  to  remember  any  promised  re- 
ward.    "  What  will  you  take  as  wages?" 

"Would  you  deceive  us  so?"  cried  Fasolt,  in 


/ 


Fasolt  and  Fafner  15 

astonished  r.\ge.  "  Friea  you  promised  us.  We 
worked  right  heartily  to  win  us  so  fair  a  woman." 

**  Hush  !'  muttered  Fafner.  "  Listen  to  me  ! 
Without  Friea's  apples  of  youth  the  gods  will 
grow  old,  and  their  glory  will  fade  away.  They 
will  die  like  human  beings  if  Friea  be  taken 
from  them." 

So  the  giants  talked  together,  planning  how  to 
steal  the  lovely  goddess,  who  stood  aside  trem- 
bling, fearing  that  Wotan  would  refuse  to  pro- 
tect her  from  the  two  savage  workmen. 

He  meanwhile  merely  murmured  ?oftly  to 
himself,  "  Logi  is  long  coming,"  and  gazed  ex- 
pectantly about.  But  still  the  Fire  God  could 
not  be  seen. 

Thor  and  Froh,  two  other  gods,  had  appear- 
ed. The  giants  were  growing  more  impatient  and 
Friea  more  despairing,  when  Logi  at  last  arrived. 
When  he  did  he  talked  on  a  variety  of  subjects 
before  he  would  pay  any  attention  to  the  affairs 
that  were  worrying  the  other  gods  and  the  giants. 
But  at  last  he  set  his  clever  brain  to  work  at  some 
plan  by  which  his  fair  sister  Friea  might  be  saved. 
Knowing  well  the  love  of  wealth  characteristic 
of  the  giants,  he  told  the  story  of  the  Rhinegold 
and  the  stealing  of  it  by  the  Nibelung.  He  said 
that  he  had  heard  the  maids  weeping  for  their 


I 

16  The  Story  of  the  Rliinegnld 

lost  treasure,  and  had  promised  therr  that  Wotan, 
the  King  God,  would  return  it  to  hem  in  time. 
The  two  giants  began  to  feel  the  same  desire  for 
it  that  Alberich  had  had,  and  to  whisper  togeth- 
er concerning  it,  so  vividly  did  Logi  describe  its 
powers. 

"  It  seems,"  muttered  Fafner,  "  that  this  Gold 
is  worth  even  more  than  Friea."  And  he  cried 
out  suddenly:  "Listen,  Wotan,  you  wise  one! 
We  will  give  up  Friea ;  but  you  will  instead  be- 
stow upon  us  the  Nibelung's  Gold." 

"  We  will  hold  her  meanwhile  as  ransom  !" 
cried  Fasolt.  And  they  dragged  her  away,  de- 
spite her  piteous  appeals,  to  Riesenheim  (or 
Home  of  the  Giants),  leaving  the  gods  perplexed 
and  sorrowing  for  their  lost  goddess. 

As  they  stood  silently  together  a  mist  seemed 
to  steal  upward  from  the  ground,  and  floated  be- 
tween them.  A  strange  shadow  rested  upon  the 
faces  of  the  gods.  They  looked  pale  and  wrinkled  ; 
their  hair  was  white. 

"  Alas  !  What  has  happened  ?"  wailed  Fricka, 
faintly. 

The  gods  were  growing  old. 

"  See,  then,"  said  Logi,  the  shrewd  one.  "  Our 
Youth  Goddess  has  gone.  We  are  old  ;  we  are 
gray.     The  race  of  gods  will  come  to  an  end." 

)■ 


J) 


Fasolt  and  Fafncr  17 

Wotan  started  and  looked  about  him.  His 
face  was  pale. 

"  Down,  Logi !  Let  us  go  down  to  Nibelheim  !" 
he  cried.     "  The  Gold  shall  be  had  for  ransom." 

The  gods  called  out  good  wishes  after  them 
through  the  mist,  and  Wotan,  the  King  God,  and 
his  fire -servant,  Logi,  went  down  through  the 
hollow,  shadowy  passages  under  the  earth  to 
Nibelheim,  the  home  of  the  dw^arfs. 


E 


n: 


m 


p- 


1=^==^ 


Ring  Motif 


t>«&--g:- 


Nibelung  Motif 


CHAPTER    III 


N  I  3  E  L  H  E  I  M 


Alberich  had  forged  a  Ring  from  the  Rhine- 
gold,  and,  wearing  it,  possessed  absolute  pow- 
er over  the  rest  of  the  Nibelungs.  He  was  the 
King  Dwarf,  ruler  over  all  Nibelheim,  the  Land 
of  Gloom.  Ah !  what  a  land  of  gloom  it  was ! 
Through  the  dark  shadows  there  streamed  fit- 
fully a  lurid  light  from  the  forges  Avhere  the 
dwarfs  were  working ;  their  hammers  clanged 
monotonously  on  the  anvils.  Slowly  they  laid 
the  results  of  their  toil  in  great  heaps,  and  Al- 
berich laughed  at  their  wearinesr.  and  gloated 
over  the  treasures,  which  he  promptly  claimed  as 
his  own. 

Among   the   Nibelungs  was   one  particularly 


Nibelhciui  1 9 

crooked  and  ill-shapen,  named  Mime.  He  was 
Alberich's  half-brother,  and,  not  unnaturally, 
hated  the  Black  King  with  all  his  strength  ;  for 
Alberich  treated  him  even  more  cruelly  than  the 
others. 

Mime,  at  Alberich's  command,  made  a  won- 
derful cap  of  darkness  out  of  some  of  the  Rhine- 
gold,  which  not  only  had  the  power  of  making 
its  wearer  invisible  at  will,  but  could  change  him 
into  whatever  shape  he  wished.  This  Alberich 
wore,  and  changed  himself  into  a  column  of 
mist,  in  which  shape  he  found  he  could  move 
about  much  faster,  and  make  things  much  hard- 
er for  the  dwarfs. 

"  Hohei,  all  you  Nibelungs!  Kneel  to  your 
King!  Now  he  is  everywhere,  all  about  you, 
unseen,  but  felt  ?.nd  heard,  you  idlers!" 

And  the  column  of  mist  drifted  ofT  through  a 
rocky  passage,  leaving  Mime  whimpering  upon 
the  ground. 

Now,  with  the  clang  of  the  hammers  there 
mingled  the  sound  of  steps,  and  from  the  black 
crevice  in  the  rocks  came  two  figures  slowly 
down  to  Nibelheim.  One  was  tall  and  majestic, 
with  a  helmet  of  gold  and  steel,  a  long  cloak 
with  strange  designs  upon  it,  and  a  deep  golden 
beard  that  hung  far  down  over  his  breast ;  one 


20  TJie  Story  of  the  Rhincgold 

of  his  eyes  was  missing,  and  in  his  hand  he  bore 
a  great  spear. 

The  other  was  clothed  in  brilliant  red,  his  eyes 
were  bright,  his  step  swift  as  a  springing  flame  in 
dead  grass.  They  were  Wotan  and  Logi  search- 
ing for  the  Rhinegold. 

Logi  accosted  Mime  in  friendly  fashion,  and 
asked  what  was  wrong  with  him. 

"  That  wretch,  my  brother !"  grumbled  the 
Dwarf.  "  He  treats  us  all  cruelly.  Leave  me 
in  peace !" 

"How  came  Alberich  by  his  power?"  asked 
the  Fire  God. 

"  From  the  ruddy  Rhinegold  he  made  a  Ring. 
With  it  he  rules  us.  But,"  asked  the  Nibelung, 
staring  at  them,  "  who  are  you  both  ?" 

"  Friends  that  perhaps  may  free  the  Nibel- 
ung people,"  laughed  Logi,  and  at  the  same  time 
Alberich  appeared,  scolding,  screaming,  and  ill- 
treating  all  who  came  in  his  way.  Driving  Mime 
away  with  the  rest  of  the  dwarfs,  he,  scowling, 
asked  the  two  gods  what  they  wished. 

"  We  heard  of  the  wonders  worked  by  Albe- 
rich," answered  Wotan,  "We  come  to  behold 
them." 

"  Pooh !  I  know  you  well,"  said  the  Dwarf 
King.     "  Such  notable  guests  " — and  he  sneered 


Nibclheim  21 

- — "  could  only  have  been  led  by  envy  to  Nibel- 
eim. 

"  Surely  you  know  me,"  said  Logi.  "  I  have 
lit  your  forges,  gnome.     Cannot  you  trust  me?" 

"To  be  sure  I  know  you,"  grinned  Alberich. 
"  And  I  will  always  trust  you  to  be  untrustwor- 
thy.    I  don't  fear  you." 

"  How  brave  you  are,"  said  Logi,  in  pretended 
admiration. 

"Do  you  see  that  treasure?"  said  the  Nibel- 
ung,  proudly  pointing  to  a  great  heap  of  gold 
and  gems. 

The  gods  assented. 

"  But,"  said  Wotan,  "  what  good  does  it  do 
you,  here  in  Nibelheim?" 

Alberich  glared  at  him,  and  then  laughed. 

"  Ha !  ha  !  But  wait !"  he  said.  "  You  gods  ! 
You  gods !  You  have  looked  down  upon  us 
Nibelungs.  Now  we,  with  the  help  of  the  Gold- 
en Ring,  will  sway  the  whole  world.  We  will 
storm  the  gates  of  Walhalla!  Beware!  Ha! 
ha  !     Do  you  hear  me  ?     Beware  !" 

Wotan,  in  anger,  started  forward,  but  Logi 
slipped  in  front  of  him. 

"  Most  wonderful  are  you,  O  Nibelung  I"  he 
said,  admiringly.  "  I  salute  you  as  the  might- 
iest  creature  alive.     But  tell  me  one  thing,  O 


22  The  Story  of  the  Rhine  gold 

wise  one.  How  guard  you  your  Ring  from 
thieves?" 

"  Does  Logi  think  that  all  are  as  foolish  as 
himself  ?"  asked  Alberich.  "  That  danger  I  pro- 
vided for.  A  Cap  of  Darkness,  called  the  Tarn- 
helm,  is  mine,  to  change  me  into  whatever  shape 
I  wish,  and  also  to  hide  me  at  any  time.  So, 
my  friend,  guard  I  my  Ring,  sleeping  or  waking, 
as  I  wish." 

"  Wondrous  above  all  it  seems !"  cried  Logi. 
"  Prove  it,  O  Dwarf !" 

"  That  I  will.     What  shape  shall  I  take  ?" 

"  Whatever  you  wish,"  answered  Logi.  "  It  is 
sure  to  be  wonderful." 

Alberich  placed  the  metal  cap  upon  his  head 
and  became  a  great  dragon,  writhing  on  the 
ground. 

"  Wonderful !"  cried  the  gods. 

"  Yet  I  should  again  hke  to  behold  its  magic. 
Is  it  possible  to  become  small  as  well  as  large  by 
its  aid  ?"  asked  Logi.  "  I  beg  of  you  show  us  if 
you  can  become  small,  O  great  one  !" 

"  Nothing  easier  !"  cried  Alberich,  beginning 
to  enjoy  himself.  "  Look,  then,  O  gods !"  He 
placed  the  helmet  on  his  head  and  vanished.  A 
toad  hopped  on  the  ground  in  his  stead. 

"Quick!     Hold  him!"   cried  the    Fire   God; 


Nibelheun  23 

and  Wotan  firmly  held  the  toad  with  his  foot, 
while  Logi  lifted  up  the  Tarnhelm,  which  still 
rested  upon  its  great  head.  And  behold !  Al- 
berich  lay  at  their  feet,  struggling  and  roaring 
with  rage. 

The  Fire  God  produced  a  rope,  and  the  two 
gods  bound  the  Nibelung  and  carried  him  with 
them  up  the  dark  passage-way  through  which 
they  had  descended,  and  left  behind  them  the 
crimson  fires,  the  clanging  hammers,  the  gloom, 
and  hopelessness  of  Nibelheim. 


-G- 


*^ 


-y—g- 


^'     V   \ 


Motif  of  Alberich''s  Spell 


CHAPTER  IV 


THE   RAINBOW   BRIDGE 


Out  of  the  underground  world  into  the  wild, 
mountainous  country  above,  veiled  still  with  the 
strange  gray  mist  of  age,  came  the  two  gods  and 
their  captive,  Alberich. 

He  was  snarling  and  grumbling,  being  much 
enraged  at  being  bound  by  the  hated  gods,  and, 
above  all,  at  having  his  beloved  Tarnhelm  in  the 
hands  of  Logi,  whom  he  especially  detested.  Also, 
he  feared  that  he  would  be  forced  to  give  up  the 
Ring,  which  he  still  wore  on  his  finger  ;  and,  partly 
to  prevent  the  gods  from  wishing  for  this,  he  soon 
consented  to  give  them  the  hoard  which  his  ser- 
vants, the  Nibelungs,  had  collected  in  Nibelheim. 
Touching  the  Ring  with  his  lips,  he  murmured  a 
command,  or  spell,  and  from  the  under -world 
came  the  little  dark  dwarfs  bearing  great  loads 
of  treasure,  which  they  placed  at  his  feet. 


The  Rainbow  Bridge  25 

Ashamed,  and  hating  that  they  should  see  him 
a  captive',  Alberich  loudly  ordered  them  off  with 
threats  and  harsh  words,  and  then  demanded  that 
the  gods  should  release  him,  while  the  Nibelungs 
crept  back  into  the  dark  hole  that  led  to  Nibel- 
heim. 

Logi,  casting  the  Tarnhelm  upon  the  pile,  asked 
if  the  Dwarf  should  be  freed. 

"  He  wears  a  bright  Ring,"  said  the  King  God. 
"  Let  it  be  added  to  the  heap  I" 

"  The  Ring  !"  wildly  cried  Alberich.  "  The 
Ring  !     I  will  never  give  it  up!     It  is  mine  !" 

"Thief!  You  stole  it  from  the  Rhine  Chil- 
dren," said  VVotan.  "  Do  you  call  it,  then, 
yours  ?"  and  he  tore  the  Ring  from  Alberich's 
finger  and  placed  it  on  his  own. 

"  Let  him  go !"  he  said  to  Logi,  who  obeyed, 
and  the  Nibelung  was  free.  Rising  from  the 
ground,  he  glared  horribly  at  the  gods. 

"  Listen  to  the  spell  I  cast  on  the  Ring  I"  he 
said,  with  a  peal  of  wild  laughter.  "  None  who 
possess  it  shall  ever  through  it  come  to  happi- 
ness. Sorrow  attends  it,  and  whoever  owns  it 
shall  know  grief.  His  death  shall  be  sad,  his  life 
a  failure.  This  doom  shall  attend  the  Ring  until 
it  comes  back  to  my  hand.  Hear  the  spell  Al- 
berich has  placed  on  the  Gold  !" 


26  The  Story  of  the  Rhine  gold 

He  laughed  again,  and  vanished  in  the  dark 
hole  that  led  to  Nibelheim. 

Wotan  stood  silently  gazing  at  the  Ring  on 
his  finger.  Logi,  looking  off  in  the  distance, 
saw  Fasolt  and  Fafner  nearing,  with  Friea.  As 
she  came  closer,  the  gray  mist  began  to  clear 
slightly  away,  though  it  still  hung  about  in 
heavy  clouds,  hiding  Walhalla's  spires.  Fricka, 
Thor,  and  Froh,  quickly  drawing  near  from  an- 
other direction,  spoke  of  the  growing  warmth 
and  clearness  of  the  air. 

"  Dear  sister,  welcome  back  to  us !"  cried 
Fricka,  as  the  giants  strode  out  with  Friea. 
But,  when  the  two  goddesses  started  forward 
to  meet  each  other,  Fasolt  caught  hold  of  his 
captive  and  held  her  fast. 

"  Wait !  Wait !"  he  cried.  "  Where  is  the  ran- 
som? 

"  Behold  it !"  said  Wotan,  pointing  to  the  heap 
of  treasure. 

The  giants  declared  that  when  a  pile  of  gold 
had  been  erected  high  enough  to  hide  the 
Love  Goddess  from  view,  they  would  return 
her  to  the  gods — but  not  before.  Accordingly, 
a  heap  was  made  which,  as  it  grew  higher  with 
added  treasure,  soon  hid  Friea  entirely,  save 
for  a  gleam   of  her  bright  hair,  which  Fafner's 


The  Rainbow  Bridge  27 

keen  eye  descried.     The  Tarnhelm  must  go  to 
hide  it. 

That  accomplished,  Fasolt  strained  his  eyes  to 
find  an  unfilled  crevice.  Through  a  tiny  space  he 
beheld  one  of  the  goddess's  eyes,  and  demanded 
the  Ring  to  fill  up  the  chink. 

"  The  Ring  !"  exclaimed  Wotan,  starting  back. 

"The  Ring!"  cried  Logi.  "Nonsense!  It  is 
the  Rhine  Children's  treasure.  The  King  God 
will  return  it  to  them." 

"  Foolish  you  are,"  said  Wotan,  in  a  low  voice. 
"  I  shall  keep  it  myself." 

"  Bad  is  the  prospect  for  the  fulfilment  of  my 
promise  to  the  weeping  Rhine  Children,"  said 
Logi,  softly. 

"Your  promise  does  not  bind  me."  said  the 
King  of  the  Gods.     "  I  shall  keep  the  Ring." 

"  Hand  over  the  ransom  !"  cried  Fafner,  loudly. 

"Never!"  said  Wotan. 

"  Then  Friea  is  ours !"  roared  the  giants,  and 
they  grasped  her  once  more. 

The  gods,  in  chorus,  begged  Wotan  to  give 
the  wranglers  the  treasure,  but  he  was  deaf  to 
their  entreaties.  His  eyes  were  fastened  upon 
the  bright  Ring's  glitter ;  he  was  blind  to  all  else. 

Suddenly  the  light  seemed  to  die  out  from  the 
world.    All  grew  dark.     From  a  black  chasm  in 


28  TJie  Story  of  the  Rkinegold 

the  rocks  rose  a  woman's  figure  in  a  strange  halo 
of  blue  light.  Her  face  was  pale,  with  a  look  of 
deepest  mystery  upon  it.  Lifting  her  hand,  she 
spoke  in  low,  solemn  tones  to  Wotan  : 

"  Hear  my  warning  !  Avoid  the  Ring,  with  its 
terrible  spell !     Heed  me,  O  Wotan  !" 

"Who  are  you  who  warn  me?"  asked  the  god. 

"I  understand  all  things;  wisest  in  all  the 
world  am  I.  The  witch-wife  Erda,  men  call  me, 
Mother  of  the  Norns.  Listen,  listen,  listen  !  A 
day  of  dusk  and  gloom  is  coming  for  the  gods. 
Beware  of  the  Ring  I" 

She  sank  down  into  the  earth  once  more. 
The  blue  light  faded  away.  As  she  vanished 
she  spoke  again  : 

"Think  well  on  \A'hat  I  have  said!" 

She  was  gone.  Slowly  the  light  came  back  to 
the  world.  Lost  in  thought,  Wotan  stood  a  mo- 
ment ;  then  turned  quickly  to  the  giants,  and 
tore  the  Ring  from. his  finger. 

"  It  is  yours  !"  he  declared  ;  and  he  tossed  it 
on  to  the  pile.  ""  Back  to  us,  Friea !"  and  the 
Love  Goddess  gladly  flew  back  to  their  midst. 

Fafner  and  Fasolt  began  fighting  over  the 
Ring  at  once,  and  Alberich's -dark  spell  quickly 
made  itself  felt.  For  Fasolt,  seizing  the  Ring, 
was  killed  by  his  brother,  who,  with  Ring  and 


TJie  Rainbow  Bridge  29 

treasure,  fled  away  to  a  far  cave,  named  Hate 
Hole,  and  there,  in  the  shape  of  a  great  dragon, 
guarded  his  hoard  in  loneliness  for  many  years. 
But  that  is  a  different  part  of  my  story. 

After  the  death  of  Fasolt  and  the  flight  of 
Fafner  with  the  treasure,  the  clouds  hanging 
low  over  the  gods  were  cleared  away  by  a  great 
storm,  and,  as  Walhalla  appeared  shining  in  the 
sun,  a  rainbow  bridge  spanned  the  space  be- 
tween the  palace  and  the  gods,  who  passed  over 
it  to  their  new  home. 

"These  gods  —  how  foolish  and  blind!"  said 
Logi  to  himself,  as  he  went  with  them.  "  I  feel 
ashamed  that  I  am  one  of  them,  bound  to  share 
in  their  doings." 

The  beautiful  palace  glittered  brightly.  The 
gods  smiled  as  they  passed  over  the  rainbow 
bridge.  Only  from  the  Rhine  below  there  came 
a  sound  of  wailing. 

"  O  Rhinegold  !  Rhinegold  !"  sang  the  weep- 
ing Rhine  daughters.  "  We  long  for  your  light. 
Trustful  are  those  in  the  water ;  false  are  those 
above." 


m^^^m- 


Walhalla  Motif 


Ipart  flU 

THE  WARRIOR   GODDESS,  or  DIR 
WALKURE 


\ 


^ 


^^^m 


Storm   Motif 


PRELUDE 


I  SHALL  now  take  a  long  leap  in  my  story, 
going  on  to  a  time  when  the  gods  had  been 
happy  in  Walhalla  for  many  years.  Wotan 
alone  felt  dreary  forebodings,  though,  as  yet, 
there  were  no  real  signs  of  any  downfall  of  the 
gods.  So  heavy  were  these  presentiments  that 
he  began  to  fill  his  halls  with  heroes  able  to 
defend  Walhalla,  if  Alberich  should  ever  regain 
the  Ring,  and,  keeping  his  word,  storm  the  gates 
of  the  gods'  palace.  At  Wotan's  command,  his 
nine  daughters,  the  Walkiires  (or  Warrior  God- 
desses) watched  over  all  combats  between  he- 
roes, carrying  those  who  were  killed  to  Walhalla, 
where  Friea's  smiles  brought  them  to  life  again. 

And  this  was  not  the  only  strange  thing  that 
had  come  to  pass  since  the  gods  had  entered 
their  new  palace. 

Among  Wotan's  descendants  were  a  race  of 
people  called  the  Volsungs,  and  at  the  time  of 
3 


34  The  Story  of  the  Rliinegold 

which  I  am  writing  only  two  of  them  were  alive, 
a  boy  and  a  girl,  who  had  been  brought  up  from 
babyhood  almost  like  brother  and  sister,  and 
who  were  very  much  alike,  having  the  golden 
hair  of  their  ancestor  Wotan,  and  eyes  in  which 
there  was  a  curious  glitter,  as  bright  as  that  of 
the  snake's  glance. 

Both  were  as  beautiful  as  the  sun,  like  all  the 
Vdlsungs ;  both  were  strong  and  warm-hearted 
and  noble,  and  they  loved  each  other  as  much  as 
though  they  had  been  really  brother  and  sister. 

While  still  very  young,  they  became  separated 
for  years;  for,  while  the  boy  was  out  hunting, 
the  girl,  Sieglinde,  was  stolen  away  by  a  robber 
named  Hunding.  She  led  a  dreary  life  as  the 
Robber's  servant,  until  she  became  a  woman. 
But  she  alv/ays  felt  confident  that  help  would 
come  to  her  in  time,  because  one  night,  at  a 
feast  given  by  Hunding,  a  stranger  had  entered, 
robed  in  the  rough  garb  of  a  wanderer,  but  with 
kingly  bearing.  One  of  his  eyes  was  missing. 
He  had  struck  a  sword  into  the  trunk  of  a  great 
tree  which  grew  up  from  the  centre  of  Hunding's 
house,  declaring  that  whoever  could  draw  it  out 
should  have  it  for  his  own.  And  all  had  tried 
their  best,  but  the  blade  would  not  yield  an 
inch. 


Prelude  3  5 

Then  the  Wanderer  had  laughed  and  depart- 
ed. But  Sieglinde,  thinking  of  it  dreamily,  re- 
membered that,  while  he  had  frowned  on  the 
others,  he  had  looked  kindly  on  her ;  and,  gaz- 
ing at  the  sword,  she  began  to  feel,  after  a  while, 
that  whoever  could  pull  it  forth  would  be  her 
rescuer.     And  so  the  years  passed. 

She  did  not  know  that  the  Wanderer  had 
been  none  other  than  the  first  father  of  all 
the  race  of  Volsungs — Wotan,  the  king  of  the 
gods. 

Siegmund,  the  boy,  as  he  grew  to  manhood, 
became  a  very  wolf  in  wildness,  but  a  great  war- 
rior, and  a  stanch  hero.  He  led  a  roving  life, 
with  few  friends,  and,  alas!  many  enemies.  His 
generous  heart  brought  him  into  sad  dilemmas 
sometimes;  as,  for  instance,  when,  at  a  maid- 
en's request,  he  defended  her  from  her  relations, 
who  wished  to  marry  her  to  some  one  whom  she 
hated.  When,  in  doing  battle  for  her,  he  killed 
one  of  her  kinsmen,  she  had  flung  herself  upon 
the  dead  man  and  accused  her  defender  of 
cruelty. 

He  fought  the  rude  warriors  who  were  press- 
ing up  about  her  until  his  weapons  were  torn 
from  him,  and  he  was  driven  away  into  the 
woods  through  a  wild   storm  which   seemed  to 


36  The  Story  of  the  Rhinegold 

blow  him  on  with  irresistible  violence,  until  he 
found  himself  at  the  door  of  a  house. 

Utterly  exhausted,  he  staggered  in,  filled  only 
with  the  desire  to  rest  and  shelter  his  tired  body 
from  the  storm.  And  the  house  was  that  of 
Hunding,  the  Robber. 


I 


■  g       ^ iiiBL^_ 


U:  4  4^ 


Hunding  Motif 


trr 


^ 


-«>- 


-(5'- 


=!< 


Volsung  Motif 


CHAPTER  I 


THE  HOUSE   OF   HUNDING 


Outside  the  storm  was  raging,  the  great 
pines  were  bending  in  the  wild  gale,  the  thun- 
der and  lightning  were  in  mad  commotion. 

Inside,  rude  as  the  hut  was,  there  were  warmth 
and  apparent  peace.  A  large  fire  burned  on  the 
hearth,  and  sent  its  fitful  glare  from  time  to  time 
flashing  about  the  bare  hall  ;  now  shining  on  the 
sword-hilt  in  the  great  oak-tree  growing  in  the 
centre ;  now  lighting  the  dark  corners  with  a 
faint  red  gleam,  A  heap  of  skins  was  beside 
the  hearth,  and  upon  this  Siegmund  sank  ex- 
hausted. 

As  he  lay  there  the  door  opened,  and  Sieg- 


38  Tlie  Story  of  the  Rhinegold 

linde  came  quickly  from  an  inner  room.  Fright- 
ened by  the  sight  of  a  stranger,  she  accosted 
him  in  trembhng  tones.  Receiving  no  answer, 
she  came  nearer,  and,  looking  down  at  him,  she 
saw  a  strong,  tall  man,  with  golden  hair,  and 
a  face  as  beautiful  as  the  sun.  Caught  over  his 
shoulder  was  a  great  black  bear -skin,  and  his 
face  was  like  that  of  a  king  among  men.  His 
eyes  were  closed  as  she  bent  over  him ;  but, 
after  a  moment  or  two,  he  opened  them  and 
gasped  faintly,  "  Water !  Water  !"  only  to  sink 
back  once  more,  exhausted,  as  Sieglinde  hast- 
ened away  to  draw  him  a  draught  at  the  spring. 
She  was  soon  back  with  what  he  had  asked  for, 
and,  giving  it,  looked  down  kindly  as  he  drank. 

When  he  had  finished,  he  gazed  up  at  her  and 
saw  a  beautiful  maiden,  with  the  rough,  gray  skin 
of  some  wild  animal  worn  loosely  over  her  long 
white  robe.  She  had  hair  of  as  deep  a  gold  as 
his  own,  and  a  face  full  of  sweetness  and  a  sym- 
pathy that  he  had  never  known  before. 

Rising  from  the  hearth,  he  gently  wished  her 
good  fortune,  and  thanked  her  for  her  kindness 
to  a  friendless  man,  who  must  now  pass  on  his 
way  lest  the  sorrow  which  followed  his  foot- 
steps should  come  to  her ;  and,  so  saying,  was 
about  to  leave  the   house  when  Sieglinde,  who 


The  House  of  Hundmg  39 

in  some  way  felt  that  this  man  was  to  be  her 
rescuer,  sprang  forward  and  begged  him  to  stay, 
saying  that  as  sorrow  had  dwelt  in  the  house  for 
man)'  days  she  did  not  fear  its  coming.  So  he 
consented  to  remain  until  Hunding,  who  was  out 
hunting,  should  return. 

Going  back  to  the  hearth,  he  stood  there 
quietly  looking,  in  a  long  silence,  towards  Sieg- 
linde,  and  both  felt,  I  think,  that  it  was  Fate 
that  he,  and  none  other,  should  stay  and  rescue 
her.  So  they  stood  silently  waiting  for  the  Rob- 
ber's return,  and  the  fire  crackled  and  glowed 
and  flickered  about  the  hall. 

Suddenly,  Sieglinde  started  ;  for  the  sound  of 
hoofs  broke  the  stillness,  and  they  could  hear 
the  Robber  leading  his  horse  to  the  stable.  Al- 
most directly  afterwards  the  door  opened,  and 
Hunding  himself  came  in.  He  was  not  a  pleas- 
ant-looking creature,  for  he  was  very  tall  and 
very  broad-shouldered,  and  as  wild  in  appear- 
ance as  a  wolf,  and  his  face  was  dark  and  angry. 
His  long  hair  and  beard  were  black  and  tan- 
gled, his  eyes  were  fierce,  and  he  wore  queer, 
jangling  armor  and  bands  of  steel  on  his  bare 
arms. 

He  stopped  short,  and  sternly  pointed  to  the 
stranger,  glaring    at   Sieglinde    in   great   anger. 


40  The  Story  of  the  Rhinegold 

Reading  a  fierce  question  in  his  look,  she  an- 
swered, quietly : 

"  I  found  this  man  weary  upon  the  hearth. 
Need  drove  him  into  the  house." 

Hunding  relented  a  little ;  and,  after  handing 
her  his  shield  and  weapons,  said  quietly  to  Sieg- 
mund : 

"  Safe  is  my  hearth !  Safe  for  you  is  my 
house!"  Then,  turning  to  Sieglinde,  he  rough- 
ly bade  her  hasten  with  the  supper.  She  bore 
away  the  heavy  weapons  and  rested  them  against 
the  tree  in  the  centre  of  the  hall ;  then  went  about 
arranging  the  evening  meal.  As  they  sat  down 
on  the  rough  seats  around  the  scantily  spread 
table,  Hunding  asked  his  guest  his  name,  and 
whence  he  had  come  on  so  stormy  a  night. 
Sieglinde  leaned  eagerly  forward  as  the  warrior 
began  his  tale. 

He  told  them  the  story  of  his  life,  only  call- 
ing himself  Woful  the  Wolfing  instead  of  Sieg- 
mund  the  Volsung.  And  when  he  came  to  the 
tale  of  the  maiden  and  her  kinsmen,  and  of  how 
he  had  killed  one  of  them,  and  fought  the  others 
until  he  was  disarmed  and  driven  into  the  forest, 
Hunding  rose  in  great  anger  and  stood  looking 
at  his  guest  with  wrath  in  his  eyes. 

"  You    win    every    one's    hate,"  he    declared. 


The  House  of  Hiindmg  41 

"  My  friends  sent  for  n:ie  to  help  them  revenge 
the  shedding  of  blood.  I  went  to  their  aid,  but 
it  was  too  late.  Now,  when  I  return,  I  find  the 
enemy  himself  upon  my  hearth.  They  were  my 
friends  against  whom  you  fought ;  and,  though 
to-night  custom  makes  you  safe  as  a  guest  in 
my  house,  to-morrow  you  shall  die,  Wolfing! 
So  be  prepared  !" 

So  both  the  Robber  and  his  servant,  the  maid- 
en Sieglinde,  went  away,  leaving  Siegmund  alone 
by  the  hearth,  sad  and  a  little  perplexed.  For 
Sieglinde,  as  she  left  the  hall,  had  pointed  swiftly 
towards  the  sword  -  hilt  buried  in  the  tree.  The 
fire  leaped  up  wildly  as  he  stood  gazing  towards 
the  oak,  and  the  light  touched  the  bright  hilt 
and  painted  it  red  for  a  moment,  then  died  once 
more.  Siegmund  dreamily  wondered  if  the  light 
on  the  steel  had  been  left  by  the  glance  Sieg- 
linde had  cast  towards  it.  For  you  see  he  had 
fallen  in  love  with  this  lovely  woman,  who  look- 
ed at  him  so  kindly,  and  whose  face  was  as  fair 
and  beautiful  as  the  sun. 

The  gold  and  rosy  flashes  from  the  fire  grew 
fainter,  the  shadows  deepened,  and  Siegmund 
fell  asleep. 

Now  perhaps  you  wonder  why  he  stayed  there 
instead  of  going  out  into  the  night,  where  he 


42  The  Story  of  the  Rhinegold 

would  be  safe.  There  were  three  good  reasons 
to  keep  him. 

In  the  first  place,  he  was  too  brave  a  hero  to 
fly  from  danger  ;  and,  in  the  second  place,  he 
did  not  want  to  leave  the  beautiful  maiden  alone 
in  the  Robber's  power;  and  the  third  reason  was 
as  good  a  one  as  either  of  the  others.  Hunding 
had  said :  "  Custom  makes  you  safe  as  a  guest  in 
my  house,"  which  meant  that  it  would  be  both 
unfair  and  wrong  if  he,  Hunding,  killed  a  stran- 
ger taking  shelter  under  his  roof.  This  was 
called  the  Law  of  Hospitality,  and  the  law  was 
never  taken  advantage  of  by  any  honorable 
guest.  So,  if  Siegmund  had  run  away  after 
Hunding  had  so  well  observed  the  Law  of  Hos- 
pitality he  would  have  been  dishonorable  as 
well  as  cowardly,  and  it  was  just  as  though  he 
had  given  a  promise  that  he  would  not  go  away 
that  night. 

In  the  meantime  Siegmund  lay  asleep.  From 
an  inner  room  came  the  beautiful  maiden  swiftly 
to  his  side.  Awaking  him,  she  told  him  to  hurry 
away  while  there  was  yet  time.  She  said  that 
she  had  sprinkled  some  sleep  spices  into  Hund- 
ing's  wine,  and  that  he  would  slumber  soundly 
and  long ;  and  she  begged  the  guest  to  go  away 
quietly  into  the  night  and  save  himself. 


The  House  of  Hunding  43 

Finally,  she  told  him  of  the  Wanderer  who  had 
come  and  struck  the  sword  into  the  oak-tree,  and 
told  him,  too,  how  she  had  waited  in  vain  for 
some  hero  who  would  draw  forth  the  sword  and 
rescue  her. 

Siegmund  said  that  he  would  claim  the  sword 
for  his  own,  and  drag  it  from  the  tree,  and,  as 
he  spoke,  the  door  opened  wide.  Perhaps  the 
good  fairies  unlatched  it.  Without,  it  was  very 
still ;  the  storm  had  ceased,  and  the  moon  was 
shining  wondrously. 

Then  Sieglinde,  looking  in  his  face,  seemed 
to  see  there  a  resemblance  to  some  one  she  had 
known  long  ago,  and,  gazing  into  his  eyes,  she 
asked  him  if  he  were  really  a  Wolfing. 

"  No,  a  Volsung !"  replied  the  hero,  proudly. 
And  she  cried  out  in  joy:  "A  Volsung!  Are 
you,  too,  a  Volsung  —  one  of  my  race?  It  was 
for  you,  indeed,  that  the  Wanderer  struck  the 
sword  into  the  oak." 

Springing  to  the  tree,  Siegmund  laid  his 
hand  on  the  hilt  and  broke  into  a  wild  chant, 
naming  the  sword  which  he  had  come  to, 
when  in  such  pressing  need,  Nothung  (or  Need- 
ful). 

With  a  mighty  wrench  he  drew  it  out  of  the 
oak's  trunk,  and  held  it  above  his  head. 


44  TJic  Story  of  the  Rhine  gold 

"I  am  Siegmund  the  Volsung!"  he  shouted, 
exultantly. 

Then  he  asked  her  more  gently  if  she  would 
follow  him  away  from  the  house  of  the  enemy 
Hunding,  telling  her  that  if  she  would  be  his 
wife  he  would  defend  her  with  Nothung,  and 
make  her  life  one  long  spring-tide. 

"  As  you  are  Siegmund,  I  am  Sieglinde  !"  cried 
she,  aloud.  "  It  is  right  that  the  Volsungs  should 
become  joined  as  one." 

And  into  the  night  they  went  away  together; 
for  the  storm  had  ceased  and  the  brightness  of 
the  moonlight  was  most  marvellous. 


n 

-^L.        \ 

1                r-' 

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<5^                                    \- 

-H-r— # h       ■ 

%i^      • 

"T       n — ^■ 

-«^— b \ 

tJ 

'        V--  * 

Sword  Motif 


Briinnhilde's   Call 

^ 


"  Ho-yo  -  to  -  ho 


^^r^- 


-3* 


^^^ 


I 


Motif  of  the   Volsung's  heroism 


CHAPTER   II 


THE   DAUGHTER   OF  WOTAN 


Up  in  the  mountains  near  a  rocky  gorge,  where 
the  wind  swept  and  the  wild  pines  grew,  stood 
Wotan,  king  of  the  gods,  and  before  him,  await- 
ing his  orders,  was  his  favorite  daughter,  Briinn- 
hilde,  the  Walkiire. 

She  was  very  beautiful,  more  beautiful  than 
any  woman  who  ever  breathed.  Her  hair  was 
golden  bright,  her  figure  queenly.  When  she 
moved,  the  motion  of  a  bird  was  not  more  fleet 
and  graceful,  and  her  face  was  what  you  might 
suppose  the  face  of  a  goddess  would  be.     She 


46  The  Story  of  the  Rhincgold 

wore  long  white  robes  and  glistening  armor, 
and  the  wings  in  her  bright  helmet  were  like 
snow.  She  bore  a  spear  and  shield  also,  for  you 
know  she  was  a  goddess  of  war,  and,  as  her  busi- 
ness was  to  attend  the  battles  of  heroes,  she  ar- 
rayed herself  accordingly. 

She  moved  restlessly,  and  seemed  anxious  to 
be  off,  for  at  the  top  of  a  rocky  slope  was  not 
her  horse,  Grani,  waiting  for  her  to  spring  on 
his  back  and  gallop  away  through  the  clouds  ? 

Wotan,  whom,  of  course,  you  remember,  stood 
leaning  on  his  spear.  He  looked  for  the  moment 
glad,  for  he  was  very  fond  of  his  descendants,  the 
Volsungs,  and  he  also  believed  that  Siegmund 
would  one  day  kill  Fafner,  the  Dragon,  with  the 
sword  which  had  been  placed  in  the  oak  for  the 
purpose,  and  would  return  to  the  Rhine  Maidens 
their  treasure.  When  this  should  come  to  pass, 
the  gods  would  have  no  more  fear  of  Alberich. 

When  Wotan  thought  of  all  these  possibilities, 
the  dusk  of  the  gods'  bright  day  seemed  far  off. 
So  it  was  with  a  thrill  of  joy  in  his  voice  that  he 
spoke  to  Briinnhilde,  and  bade  her  make  ready 
to  attend  the  fight  between  Siegmund  and  Hund- 
ing,  which,  as  the  Robber  was  already  hunting  for 
his  guest  with  fierce  hounds,  was  sure  to  occur 
that  day. 


TJie  Daughter  of  IVotan  47 

"Aid  the  Volsung,  my  brave  maiden!"  said 
the  King  God.  "  Overthrow  Hunding!  Hasten 
to  the  battle!" 

"  Hoyotoho  !"  shouted  the  Walkiire,  waving 
her  spear  as  she  sprang  up  the  rocks.  "  Hoyo- 
toho !     Hoyotoho !" 

On  a  high  pinnacle  of  boulders  she  paused, 
and  looked  down  on  Wotan  once  more.  "  Look 
well,  father !  Here  comes  Fricka.  I  leave  you 
to  her." 

With  a  clear  burst  of  laughter  she  sped  on 
again.  Her  boisterous  "  Hoyotoho !"  died  away 
among  the  echoes. 

In  a  golden  car,  drawn  by  two  rams^  came 
Fricka,  the  queen  of  the  gods.  She  seemed  in 
great  haste,  and,  springing  to  the  ground,  stood 
in  all  her  majesty  before  the  King  God,  with 
anger  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  ask  for  right !"  she  began,  drawing  her  scar- 
let draperies  about  her.  And  she  went  on  to  de- 
mand vengeance  for  Hunding;  vengeance  upon 
Siegmund,  the  guest,  for  having  taken  advantage 
of  the  host  who  had  observed  so  well  the  Law  of 
Hospitality  ;  vengeance  upon  him  who,  from  the 
house  of  Hunding,  had  stolen  the  Robber's  ser- 
vant, Sieglinde. 

All  this  made   Wotan  very   unhappy,  for  he 


48  The  Story  of  the  Rhine  go  Id 

loved  Siegmund,  and  already  in  his  heart  had 
forgiven  him  for  what  he  had  done.  Yet  he 
knew  that  all  wrong  must  bring  punishment, 
and  asked  Fricka  what  she  wished  him  to  do. 

"  Call  back  the  Walkure  !"  said  the  Queen 
Goddess,  and  there  was  a  look  of   triumph  on 

her  face.     "  Break  the  Volsung's  sword  !     Prom- 

I" 
ise  me  I 

There  was  a  pause. 

"  I — promise,"  said  the  god,  covering  his  face 
with  his  hands. 

Triumphant  and  satisfied,  Fricka  drove  away, 
and,  as  she  went,  Briinnhilde,  who  had  returned 
while  the  King  and  Queen  were  talking  together, 
and  had  led  her  horse  into  a  cave  near  by,  came 
to  her  father,  asking  why  he  seemed  so  sorrow- 
ful. 

Tenderly  drawing  her  to  him,  he  told  her  the 
story  you  know  so  well,  of  the  stealing  of  the 
Gold,  the  building  of  Walhalla,  and  the  prophecy 
of  Erda.  He  told  her  of  the  day  of  which  the 
Earth  Witch  had  spoken,  when  the  world  would 
be  in  twilight  and  gloom — the  Dusk  of  the  Gods. 

He  told  her,  too,  the  hopes  he  had  had  of  the 
great  deeds  to  be  done  by  Siegmund.  He  let 
her  see  how  it  filled  him  with  the  deepest  sorrow 
to  overthrow  the  Volsung.    But  the  Volsung  had 


The  Daughter  of  Wotan  49 

taken  advantage  of  the  Law  of  Hospitality,  and 
Wotan  had  promised  that  he  would  overthrow 
him ;  and  the  promise  must  be  kept.  He  bade 
her  vanquish  Siegmund  in  the  coming  battle  and 
give  the  victory  to  Hunding  ;  then,  heart-broken, 
he  wended  his  way  among  the  rocks,  and  was 
gone. 

Sadly  Brunnhilde  gazed  after  him.  Her  heart, 
too,  was  aching,  because,  though  she  loved  to 
carry  heroes  to  Walhalla,  she  loved  still  more 
to  aid  them  in  battle.  She  went  slowly  into 
the  cave. 

It  was  growing  darker.  Now,  from  out  the 
gloom  that  filled  the  rocky  gorge  came  Sieg- 
mund and  his  beautiful  wife,  Sieglinde,  seeking 
rest  in  a  sheltered  place.  Sieglinde  was  almost 
exhausted,  for  the  way  they  had  come  was  long 
and  hard ;  and,  after  trying  vainly  to  make  her 
tired  limbs  carry  her  farther,  she  fainted  at  the 
young  Volsung's  feet.  Tenderly  he  carried  her 
to  a  rock  near  by,  and,  seating  himself  upon  it, 
gently  supported  her  and  stooped  down  to  listen 
to  her  breathing. 

\  As  he  raised  his  head,  satisfied  that  she  still 
lived,  a  grave,  sweet  voice  sounded  on  his  ear. 
He  turned  his  eyes  to  where  stood  a  beautiful 
woman  in  white  and  steel,  one  arm  on  the  neck 
4 


50  The  Story  of  the  Rhinegold 

of  her  horse.  It  was  the  Walkure,  who,  accord- 
ing to  her  custom,  came  to  warn  the  man  who 
was  shortly  to  be  killed  in  battle.  It  grew  still 
darker. 

"  Siegmund,"  said  the  Walkure,  "  look  on  me ! 
Soon  you  must  follow  me  !" 

Siegmund,  wondering,  asked  who  she  was. 

"  Only  those  who  are  shortly  to  die  may  see 
my  face,"  answered  Briinnhilde.  "  I  bear  then:; 
away  to  Wotan,  in  Walhalla.  There  you  will 
find  innumerable  heroes  who  have  died  in  bat- 
tle.    They  will  welcome  you." 

Siegmund  asked  if  his  father,  Volse,  were 
among  the  heroes. 

Briinnhilde  answered  "  Yes." 

Quietly  the  young  warrior  asked  if  his  beau- 
tiful bride  might  accompany  him. 

The  Walkure  slowly  shook  her  head. 

*'  Lonely  upon  the  earth  she  remains,"  she 
answered.  "  Siegmund  will  see  Sieglinde  no 
more." 

"  Then  greet  Walhalla  and  the  heroes  for 
me,"  said  the  Volsung;  "for  there  I  will  fol- 
low you  not." 

"You  have  looked  on  the  face  of  the  Wal- 
kiire,"  said  Briinnhilde.     "  You  must  die." 

And,  by  degrees,  she  made   him   understand 


The  Daughter  of  Wotan  5 1 

that  death  was  awaiting  him,  that  he  was  doom- 
ed to  be  killed  by  Hunding.  In  despair  Sieg- 
mund  raised  Nothung,  the  sword,  and  declared 
that  he  would  kill  his  wife  and  himself,  so  that 
they  might  be  together  in  death.  But  Briinn- 
hilde,  who  had  felt  her  heart  grow  more  and 
more  tender  towards  this  unhappy  pair,  started 
forward,  bidding  him  hope,  and  declared  that 
she  would  help  him,  instead  of  Hunding,  in  the 
combat,  and  save  both  himself  and  his  wife. 

"  I  shall  be  with  you  in  battle,"  she  promised; 
and  she  hurried  away,  leading  her  horse. 

It  grew  darker  and  darker.  Storm-clouds  were 
gathering,  and  the  rocky  gorge  was  filled  with  a 
dense,  black  shadow.  In  the  distance  came  the 
sound  of  Hunding's  horn.  Waving  his  sword, 
Siegmuftd  sprang  up  the  rocks  to  meet  the 
enemy. 

Sieglinde,  dreaming  softly  where  her  husband 
had  left  her,  was  awakened  by  a  wild  burst  of 
thunder  and  lightning.  She  started  up  frantical- 
ly, trying  to  see  through  the  darkness.  Clouds 
were  all  about  her,  veiling  the  rocks  on  every 
side.  Hunding's  deep  horn-call  sounded  near- 
er and  nearer.  Finally,  from  a  high  rock  among 
the  trees  on  the  top  of  a  wooded  slope  she 
could  hear  the  voices  of  the  combatants  and  the 


52  TJie  Story  of  the  Rhine  gold 

clash  of  weapons.  Suddenly,  in  a  vivid  glare  of 
lightning,  Brunnhilde  appeared  among  the  clouds, 
stooping  low  over  Siegmund,  and  protecting  him 
with  outstretched  shield.  Clear  and  strong  rang 
out  her  voice  over  the  tumult : 

"  Be  firm,  Siegmund  !     Strike  quickly." 

But  now  Sieglinde,  staring  wildly  up  through 
the  darkness,  paralyzed  with  fright,  saw  a  fierce 
crimson  light  —  the  light  that  heralded  the  ap- 
proach of  the  angry  King  God  —  and  Wotan 
stood  revealed  in  the  clouds  above  Hunding. 

"Away  from  my  spear!"  he  cried,  in  a  terri- 
ble voice.  "  Let  the  sword  be  splintered  !"  And 
he  stretched  out  his  weapon,  made  from  the 
World -Ash.  Nothung  was  shivered  in  pieces 
upon  it,  and  the  Robber  Hunding,  with  one  blow 
killed  Siegmund,  the  Volsung. 

With  a  great  cry  Sieglinde  sank  to  the  ground, 
but  through  the  cloudy  darkness  came  Briinn- 
hilde.  She  lifted  the  poor  woman  on  her  horse, 
and,  urging  Grani  to  flight,  sped  away  through 
the  clouds. 

Wotan,  left  alone  with  the  Robber,  turned 
towards  him  in  contemptuous  anger.  Before 
his  gaze  Hunding  sank  to  the  earth  in  death. 

Suddenly  the  King  God  burst  into  supreme 
wrath. 


Tlie  Daughter  of  Wotan 


53 


"  Briinnhilde,  who  has  disobeyed  me,  must  be 
punished  !"  he  cried.  And,  leaping  upon  his  war- 
horse,  he  was  gone  through  the  clouds. 


S3: 


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tr^ 


5 


Motif  of  Siegmund  and  Sieglinde's  Love 


^^M 


t 


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Motif  of  the  Walkiires'  Ride 


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Motif  of  Briinnhilde's  Pleading 


If^ttit 


Slumber  Motif 


CHAPTER   III 


BRUNNHILDE  S   PUNISHMENT 


It  was  a  custom  of  the  Walkiires  to  meet 
every  evening  after  their  wild  rides,  at  a  rock 
called  "  The  Walkiires'  Stone,"  and  thence  go 
on  to  Walhalla. 

Upon  the  afternoon  of  the  combat  which  had 
proved  fatal  to  the  Volsung,  the  Walkiires  ar- 
rived one  after  the  other  at  the  rock.  Only  one 
was  missing — Wotan's  favorite,  Briinnhilde. 

The  maidens  sang  merrily  their  Hoyotoho, 
waved  their  spears  and  climbed  the  rocks,  and 


BriinnJiildes  Punishment  55 

kept  a  sharp  lookout  for  Grani's  appearance  in 
the  clouds.  But  it  was  very  late  before  Briinn- 
hilde  was  anywhere  to  be  seen.  When  she 
came,  she  brought  with  her  Sieglinde,  whom 
she  was  supporting.  In  answer  to  her  sisters' 
anxious  inquiries,  the  Walkiire  told  them  of  her 
disobedience  and  Sieglinde's  sorrow,  and  begged 
them  to  protect  Siegmund's  *vife,  and  herself 
as  well. 

"  And  see,  O  sisters,  if  Wotan  draws  nigh  !" 
she  begged. 

"  A  thunder-cloud  approaches,"  called  Ort- 
linda,  one  of  the  Walkiires,  from  her  high  pin- 
nacle of  rock. 

"  The  clouds  grow  thicker,"  cried  Waltrauta. 
"  Our  father  comes,"  they  exclaimed  in  uni- 
son. 

"  Shelter  this  woman,"  begged  Briinnhilde. 
For  she  knew  that  Wotan,  in  his  rage,  might 
kill  the  wife  of  the  warrior  whom  he  had  over- 
thrown. But  the  maidens  feared  their  father's 
anger,  and  would  give  no  aid.  So,  at  last,  Briinn- 
hilde told  Sieglinde  to  fly  and  hide  herself  in 
the  forest,  and  that  she,  the  Walkiire,  would  re- 
main behind  to  bear  the  brunt  ofWotan's  an- 
ger, Briinnhilde  drew  from  under  her  shield  the 
splinters  of  Nothung,  which  she  had  picked  up 


56  The  Story  of  the  Rhincgold 

on  the  battle-field,  and  gave  them  with  words 
of  kindness  and  comfort  to  Sieglinde,  who,  mur- 
muring tender  thanks,  sped  away  into  the  woods 
and  was  gone. 

Then  even  Briinnhilde's  brave  heart  began  to 
fail  her.  A  great  storm  had  arisen,  and  amid 
the  crash  of  thunder  came  Wotan's  voice 
calling  her  name  in  tones  of  anger.  Trem- 
bling, she  took  her  place  in  the  centre  of  the 
group  of  maidens,  concealed  from  view  by 
them. 

Surrounded  by  red  light  came  Wotan,  having 
left  his  war-steed  snorting  in  the  wood. 

"  Where  is  Briinnhilde  ?"  he  demanded.  But 
the  Walkiires,  in  trembling  tones,  merely  asked 
the  cause  of  his  anger.  In  growing  rage,  Wo- 
tan commanded  Briinnhilde  to  come  forward 
and  receive  her  punishment,  reproaching  her 
in  scornful  words  for  hiding  among  her  sis- 
ters. 

Quietly  the  Walkiire  came  out  from  among 
them,  and  stood  before  him.  She  was  quite 
ready  to  receive  her  sentence,  whatever  it  might 
be,  and  bent  her  head  to  listen  to  her  father's 
words. 

Her  punishment,  Wotan  told  her,  was  to  be 
this :    She  was  to  be  laid  in  helpless  sleep,  at  the 


Briinnhilde  s  Punishmejit  57 

mercy  of  the  first  passer-by  who  might  choose 
to  awaken  her.  Him  she  must  follow  as  his 
wife,  for,  when  she  was  awakened  from  her 
sleep,  she  would  be  a  woman  —  a  goddess  no 
longer. 

Heart-broken,  Briinnhilde  sank  to  the  ground 
with  a  cry.  To  be  made  mortal  seemed  to  her 
the  most  terrible  punishment  possible.  And  it 
seemed  so  to  the  other  Walkiires  as  well.  They 
besought  the  King  God  to  have  mercy  on  their 
sister,'  but  he  was  firm. 

Amid  wails  of  despair  and  pity  for  Briinnhilde, 
the  Walkiires  separated  and  rushed  wildly  out  of 
sight  in  all  directions.  Only  the  echoes  of  their 
cries  and  the  last  faint  sound  of  their  horses' 
hoofs  remained  as  they  rode  off  through  the 
clouds. 

The  storm  died  away.  All  was  quiet  now. 
Slowly  Brunnhilde  rose  from  where  she  lay  and 
pleadingly  spoke  to  her  father,  asking  pardon  for 
her  disobedience  and  begging  for  some  mercy 
and  tenderness.  At  last,  when  she  found  that, 
though  he  still  loved  her  as  dearly  as  ever,  he 
was  firm  in  his  decision,  she  asked  only  one  fa- 
vor of  him  —  a  last  one  —  that  he  should  place  a 
circle  of  flame  about  the  rock  where  she  was  to 
be  laid  asleep,  flame  so  fierce  and  high  that  only 


58  The  Story  of  the  Rhinegold 

a  brave  man  might  come  through  it  and  awaken 
her. 

Wotan  consented,  and,  overcome  by  his  love 
for  her,  drew  her  into  his  arms  in  a  last,  sad  em- 
brace. He  bade  her  farewell  with  a  tenderness 
that  comforted  her  even  then,  and,  stooping,  kiss- 
ed her  long  and  lovingly. 

Her  eyes  closed.  Her  head  sank  back  against 
his  shoulder.  Laying  her  on  a  rock  that  made 
a  rude  couch,  he  placed  her  shield  on  her  arm 
and  her  spear  at  her  side.  He  looked  dow^n  with 
deepest  sorrow  on  the  face  of  this,  his  most  beau- 
tiful child,  the  War  Goddess,  and  then,  raising 
his  spear,  commanded  Logi  to  light  a  ring  of  fire 
about  the  rock. 

Great  billows  of  flame  spread  from  left  to 
right,  and  glowed  in  a  brilliant  circle  about  the 
sleeping  goddess,  casting  a  dim  glare  on  her  fig- 
ure, and  lighting  up  the  quiet  night-sky. 

Standing  in  the  red  firelight,  Wotan  once  more 
stretched  out  his  spear  in  a  spell,  and  pronounced 
these  words : 

"  Only  he  who  fears  not  my  spear  can  pass 
through  this  fiery  bar." 

And,  so  saying,  he  passed  from  out  the  charm- 
ed circle  and  left  behind  him  the  Walkiire  in  her 
long,  fire -watched  sleep,  to  be  broken  only  by 


Briin  nJi  ildcs  Pu  n  ish  inoit 


59 


one  who  feared  not  even  the  spear  of  Wotan, 
the  king  of  the  gods. 


The  Sleep  of  the  Walkiire 


©art  Ifirir 


SIEGFRIED 


Motif  of  Mime's  Meditation 


PRELUDE 


When  Sieglinde  ran  into  the  woods  with  the 
pieces  of  the  broken  sword,  Nothun^,  she  took 
shelter  in  a  cave  where  a  wicked  old  dwarf  lived 
alone.  There  a  little  boy  was  born.  But  Sieg- 
linde had  never  thoroughly  recovered  from  the 
shock  of  her  husband's  death.  The  way  through 
the  woods  had  been  diflficult,  and  she  had  en- 
dured great  hardships ;  so  one  day  she  called 
the  Dwarf  to  her  and  gave  him  the  broken  sword, 
telling  him  to  keep  it  for  her  son  until  he  grew 
old  enough  to  have  a  weapon  of  his  own,  and 
she  told  the  Dwarf  that  she  was  Sieglinde,  and 
that  her  husband  had  been  Siegmund,  the  Vol- 
sung,  and  she  finally  said  that  she  wanted  the 
child  to  be  named  Siegfried  ;  then  she  sank  back 
and  died.  And  so  Siegfried,  who  was  a  very 
little  baby  then,  never,  really,  saw  either  his 
father  or  mother. 

The  only  father  he  knew,  as  he  grew  older, 


64  The  Story  of  the  Rliiiiegold 

was  the  Dwarf,  who  was  none  other  than  Mime 
Alberich's  half-brother.  And  he  could  not  help 
knowing  that  Mime  was  wicked  and  sly,  though 
the  Dwarf  pretended  to  love  his  foster-son,  and 
tried  to  arouse  some  love  in  return. 

Now,  perhaps,  you  wonder,  if  Mime  was  so 
wicked,  why  he  took  care  of  the  boy.  I  will 
tell  you. 

Mime,  like  every  one  else,  wanted  the  Rhine- 
gold,  and  could,  not  get  it,  for  Fafner,  the  Drag- 
on, guarded  it  by  night  and  day  at  Hate  Hole. 
And  being  as  sly  and  evil-minded  as  the  rest  of 
the  Nibelungs,  he  had  concocted  a  plot  by  which 
he  thought  he  could  obtain  it.  He  hoped  Sieg- 
fried, when  he  grew  older,  would  slay  Fafner 
with  the  sword  Nothung,  and  win  the  Rhine- 
gold.  You  see  he  hoped  to  accomplish  Fafner's 
death  through  Siegfried,  just  as  VVotan  had 
once  tried  to  do  through  Siegmund.  Only,  af- 
ter Siegfried  had  attained  the  Gold,  Mime  hoped 
to  be  able  to  poison  him  and  steal  from  him  the 
treasure. 

But,  to  accomplish  this,  the  broken  sword 
must  be  mended,  and  this  Mime  could  not  do. 
Its  splintered  edges  baffled  even  him  —  clever 
smith  as  he  was.  So  he  set  to  work  forging 
other  swords,  and  trying  to  fashion  a  blade  keen 


Prelude  65 

enough  to  satisfy  the  boy-Volsung,  and  also  to 
kill  the  Dragon  at  Hate  Hole.  But  every  weap- 
on he  made  Siegfried  broke  into  pieces,  and  de- 
manded a  stronger  and  still  stronger  sword,  until 
Mime  was  in  despair. 

It  angered  him  terribly,  too,  that  Siegfried, 
more  by  instinct  than  anything  else,  knew  how 
wicked  his  heart  was,  and  how  full  of  bad,  cruel 
thoughts.  The  little,  dark  Nibelung  could  not 
understand  how  the  boy,  beautiful  as  the  sun, 
golden-haired  and  keen-eyed,  strong  of  limb  and 
true  of  heart,  loved  to  roam  in  the  wide  for- 
ests all  the  day,  merrily  blowing  his  silver  horn 
and  making  friends  with  the  woodland  creatures, 
only  returning  to  Mime's  cave  at  night.  He 
could  not  realize  the  pleasure  that  the  soft  for- 
est voices  gave  to  the  youth  just  growing  into 
manhood  ;  how  he  loved  the  wolves  and  bears 
better  than  the  cringing,  evil-eyed,  horrible  little 
Dwarf  in  the  cave  at  home  —  the  only  home  he 
knew. 

As  for  Siegfried,  the  only  thing  he  wondered 
at  was  that  he  ever  went  back  to  the  cave  at  all. 
Why  did  he  not  roam  away  forever  into  the 
forest,  search  out  that  far,  strange  place  called 
the  world,  that  really  seemed  as  if  it  must  be  a 
different  universe  from  the  one  in  which  he  lived  ? 
5 


66  The  Story  of  the  Rhinegold 

He  could  not  tell.  He  only  knew  that  a  strange, 
irresistible  something  seemed  to  draw  him  back  to 
Mime's  side  every  night  —  a  something  he  could 
not  explain  or  even  understand.  Meanwhile  time 
passed. 


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Motif  of  Forest  Life,  sometimes  called  Motif  of  Love  Life 
Motif  of  the  Forging  of  Nothung 

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■  No-thung  !      No  -  thung  !     No-ta-ble  Sword !" 


CHAPTER  i 


SIEGFRIED   AND    MIME 

The  cave  was  a  dark  one,  but  it  was  not  al- 
together a  bad  place  in  which  to  live.  It  was 
as  lofty  as  a  stately  cathedral,  and  the  Dwarf's 
forge,  built  on  one  side,  lent  a  fitful  red  light  and 
a  little  warmth   to   the  dim,  cold   atmosphere. 


68  TJie  Story  of  the  Rhinegold 

Skins  of  animals  gave  it  a  semblance  of  com- 
fort ;  and,  indeed,  to  a  wild  creature  like  Sieg- 
fried, it  would  have  been  a  most  desirable  home 
had  it  not  been  for  the  continual  presence  of 
Mime.  On  the  day  on  which  I  will  open  my 
story.  Mime  was  sitting  on  a  low  stool  trying  to 
fashion  a  sword  which  would  not  break  in  the 
hands  of  the  impetuous  young  Volsung,  who, 
at  that  particular  moment,  was,  as  usual,  out  in 
the  woods  with  his  friends,  the  wild  beasts.  As 
he  hammered.  Mime  grumbled  crossly  because  he 
had  to  work  forever  with  swords  that  seemed  of 
no  use  to  the  crazy  boy,  who  insisted  on  smash- 
ing them  all,  and  racing  off  to  the  woods,  merely 
demanding  as  he  went  a  better  and  a  stronger 
weapon. 

"  There  is  a  blade  that  he  could  not  break," 
muttered  the  Nibelung,  as  he  worked.  "  No- 
thung  he  would  find  firm  in  his  hands,  but  I  can- 
not weld  the  splinters.  Ah!  if  I  could,  I  should 
be  well  repaid."  He  paused,  and  then  went  on, 
mysteriously  murmuring  to  himself : 

"  Fafner,  the  great,  wicked  worm  !  Well  guards 
he  the  Rhinegold.  Only  Siegfried  can  overthrow 
him.  This  can  only  be  done  by  Nothung,  I  feel 
sure.  And,  alas !  I  cannot  shape  Nothung,  the 
sword." 


Siegfried  and  Mime  69 

He  began  to  hammer  once  more,  grumbling 
continually  because  Siegfried  insisted  that  he 
should  make  swords,  and  snarling  with  rage  be- 
cause every  weapon  he  forged  fell  to  pieces  in 
the  boy's  strong  hands. 

Suddenly,  from  without,  came  a  clear,  merry 
voice,  shouting  a  blithe  "  Hoyho !"  and  the  next 
moment  in  came  Siegfried  himself,  leading  a 
great  bear,  which  he  had  harnessed  with  a  bit 
of  rope. 

"  Ask  the  foolish  smith  if  he  has  finished  the 
sword.  Bruin  !"  he  cried  to  the  bear,  and,  holding 
back  the  great  creature  firmly,  he  pretended  to 
chase  Mime,  who,  springing  behind  the  anvil, 
cried,  savagely : 

"  Take  him  away  !  I  don't  want  the  bear  !  I 
have  done  my  best  with  your  sword." 

"  Good !"  laughed  the  boy.  "  Good-bye,  Bruin ; 
run  away,"  and  he  freed  the  great  creature,  send- 
ing him  lumbering  off  into  the  woods  again. 

Then,  turning  to  the  trembling  Nibelung,  he 
again  asked  for  the  sword,  and  Mime  handed  it 
to  him.  The  young  Volsung  took  it  into  his 
hands  quickly,  scorn  on  his  handsome  face  and 
anger  in  his  eyes.  He  was  dressed  in  a  wild  for- 
est costume  of  wolf -skins,  and  his  yellow  hair 
curled   over  his  shoulders.     He,  indeed,  made  a 


70  The  Story  of  the  RJdnegold 

great  contrast  to  Mime,  and  one  could  not  won- 
der that  they  did  not  get  on  well  together. 

"What  a  toy!"  he  cried  out.  "Do  you  call 
this  a  sword  ?"  and,  striking  it  on  the  anvil,  he 
broke  the  blade  into  a  hundred  slivers,  and  then 
burst  into  a  rage  with  the  smith,  who  had  pre- 
tended to  give  him  a  sword  fit  for  battle,  and 
had  shaped  him  so  foolish  a  switch,  as  he  called 
it.  And  finally,  thoroughly  out  of  breath,  he 
flung  himself  upon  the  stone  couch  at  one  side, 
and  not  all  Mime's  coaxings  could  appease  his 
anger.  He  finally  confessed  that  he  did  not 
know  why  he  ever  returned  to  the  cave,  be- 
cause, he  said  frankly,  he  could  not  help  detest- 
ing the  Dwarf,  and  was  much  happier  when  away 
from  him.  And  then  he  broke  into  a  passionate 
description  of  the  wood-life  he  loved  so  well;  the 
mating  of  the  birds  in  the  spring-time,  and  the 
way  they  loved  and  helped  each  other;  the  care 
that  the  mother  deer  lavished  upon  her  little 
ones ;  the  tenderness  among  all  the  forest  creat- 
ures that  seemed  so  beautiful  and  mysterious 
to  him. 

"  I  learned  watching  them,"  said  Siegfried,  al- 
most sorrowfully,  "  what  love  must  be.  Mime, 
where  is  she  whom  /  may  call  mother?" 

"  Nonsense !"  said  Mime,  and    tried  to  draw 


Siegfried  and  Mime  7 1 

Siegfried's  mind  away  from  the  dangerous  topic; 
for  he  had  never  told  him  anything  about  his 
parents,  always  calling  him  his  own  son.  And 
he  feared  the  boy's  anger  if  he  should  ever  know 
that  he  had  been  deceived. 

But,  thoroughly  aroused,  the  young  Volsung 
fiercely  demanded  the  names  of  his  father  and 
mother,  declaring  that  he  was  far  too  unlike 
Mime  to  be  his  son.  At  last  the  Nibelung  con- 
fessed the  truth,  and  told  him  the  story  of  his 
mother's  death,  and  of  how  she  had  left  her  child 
in  his  care.  And,  when  the  boy  asked  for  proof, 
he  slowly  crept  away,  to  return  with  the  broken 
sword  Nothung,  the  mending  of  which  was  so 
hard  a  riddle  even  to  his  sly  brain. 

Wildly  excited,  Siegfried  commanded  him  to 
work  at  it  anew  and  do  his  best  to  weld  the 
pieces ;  and,  with  a  shout  of  delight  and  hope, 
he  went  merrily  away  into  the  woods,  leaving 
Mime  in  saddest,  deepest  perplexity. 

Despairing,  he  murmured  at  the  hopelessness 
of  the  task,  which  his  rather  unruly  young  charge 
had  set  him,  and  was  sitting,  a  picture  of  dis- 
couragement and  misery,  when  from  the  dark 
woods  came  a  stranger  clad  as  a  wanderer,  and 
bearing  a  great  spear.  He  advanced  to  the  door 
of  the  cave  and  asked  in  slow,  grave  tones  for 


72  The  Story  of  the  Rhinegold 

rest  and  shelter.  Mime  was  at  first  frightened, 
then  angry,  and  finally  refused  to  harbor  the 
strange  guest,  until  the  Wanderer  made  the  fol- 
lowing proposal:  Mime  was  to  ask  him  three 
questions,  and  if  they  were  not  correctly  answer- 
ed the  host  should  have  the  privilege  of  cutting 
oflF  his  guest's  head.  To  this  Mime  consented, 
and,  after  a  little  thought,  thus  chose  his  first 
question : 

"  Tell  me  what  is  the  race  down  in  the  earth's 
depths?" 

And  the  Wanderer  made  answer:  "In  the 
earth's  depths  dwell  the  Nibelungs.  Nibelheim 
is  their  land.  Once  they  were  ruled  by  Black 
Alberich,  who  owned  a  magic  Ring  by  which 
he  possessed  untold  wealth.  What  is  the  next 
question?" 

Again  Mime  pondered. 

"  Now,  Wanderer,  since  you  know  so  much  of 
the  earth's  depths,"  he  said,  "  tell  me  what  is 
the  race  that  dwells  upon  its  surface?" 

"  The  giants  dwell  upon  its  surface.  Two  of 
them,  Fasolt  and  Fafner,  fought  for  Black  Al- 
berich's  hoard.  Fafner  guards  it  now  as  a  drag- 
on.    Put  your  third  question  !" 

"What  race  dwells  in  the  sky  above?"  de- 
manded Mime. 


I 


Siegfried  a) id  Mime  73 

And  the  Wanderer  answered,  majestically: 

"  The  gods  dwell  above  in  Walhalla.  Their 
King  is  Wotan,  who  owns  a  spear  made  of  the 
World -Ash.  With  that  spear  he  rules  the 
world." 

And,  as  he  spoke,  Wotan,  the  Wanderer,  struck 
the  earth  with  the  haft  he  held,  and  a  peal  of 
thunder  crashed  suddenly  out  upon  the  silence. 

As  Mime  cowered,  terror-stricken,  recognizing 
his  guest,  the  Wanderer  again  spoke. 

He  said  it  was  only  fair  that  he  should  have 
the  same  right  he  had  given  to  Mime,  and  de- 
clared that  he  should  ask  three  questions  with 
the  privilege  of  cutting  off  the  Nibelung's  head 
if  they  were  not  answered  aright. 

"  Tell  me,  O  Dwarf,"  he  began,  "  what  was 
that  race  which  Wotan  loved,  and  yet  treated 
harshly?" 

"The  Volsungs,"  answered  Mime,  partially  re- 
covering from  his  terror.  "  Siegmund  and  Sieg- 
linde  were  descended  from  the  race.  Siegfried 
is  their  son  —  the  strongest  Volsung  who  ever 
lived." 

"  Well  answered  !"  said  the  Wanderer.  "  Now 
listen  and  reply !  A  sly  Nibelung  watches  Sieg- 
fried, knowing  that  he  is  fated  to  kill  Fafner,  the 
Dragon.     What  sword  must  he  use  to  kill  him?" 


74  The  Story  of  the  Rhinegold 

"  Nothung  !"  cried  Mime, eagerly.  "  Nothung  is 
the  name  of  the  sword,  Siegmund  once  drew  it 
from  a  great  tree.  It  was  broken  by  the  spear  of 
Wotan.  Now  a  clever  smith"  —  and  he  rubbed 
his  hands  gleefully  —  "understands  all  this,  and 
he  hoards  well  the  splinters,  knowing  that  with 
these  alone  can  Siegfried  kill  the  Dragon." 

The  Wanderer  burst  out  into  laughter. 

"  But  who  will  mend  the  sword  ?"  he  asked. 

Mime  sprang  to  his  feet  in  despair,  filled  with 
terror  and  rage ;  for  that  was  the  one  question 
he  could  not  answer  —  that  was  his  riddle,  his 
everlasting  mystery. 

Quietly  Wotan  rose  from  the  hearth  where  he 
had  been  sitting. 

"  I  gave  you  three  chances  to  ask  me  the  ques- 
tion which  I  have  now  asked  you.  Foolishly, 
you  let  them  all  slip  by.  Listen  while  I  answer 
it !  Only  he  who  has  never  felt  fear  cati  forge 
Nothung  anew." 

He  strode  to  the  door  of  the  cave,  and  there 
paused,  looking  back. 

"  Guard  well  your  head,  O  Dwarf !  I  leave  it 
to  him  who  knows  not  fear." 

Smiling  quietly,  the  Wanderer  disappeared  in 
the  wood's  depths,  and  thunder  and  lightning 
followed  him  as  he  went. 


Siegfried  and  Mitiie  75 

Mime  was  left  —  puzzled,  despairing,  terror- 
stricken.  His  vivid  imagination  began  to  con- 
jure up  before  him  visions  of  Fafner,  the  Drag- 
on, and  he  had  fallen  behind  the  anvil,  so  great 
was  his  fear,  when  Siegfried  came  hastily  in,  ask- 
ing once  more  for  the  sword. 

Mime,  creeping  out  from  behind  the  anvil, 
could  not  at  once  collect  his  scattered  wits,  and 
merely  muttered : 

"  Only  he  who  has  never  felt  fear  can  forge 
Nothung  anew.  My  wits  are  too  wise  for  that 
job." 

Finally,  as  Siegfried  demanded  why  he  had 
not  worked  at  the  sword,  he  said,  slowly : 

"  I  was  fearing  for  your  sake." 

^' Fearing  r'  said  Siegfried.  "What  do  you 
mean  by  fearing?" 

Mime  described  the  tremblings,  shudderings, 
and  quakings  aroused  by  fear,  and  Siegfried  re- 
marked, as  he  finished  : 

"  All  that  must  seem  very  queer.  I  rather 
think  I  should  like  to  feel  all  that — but  how 
shall  I  learn  ?" 

Mime,  delighted,  told  him  of  Fafner,  and  said 
that  the  Dragon  would  teach  him,  or  any  one 
else,  the  art  of  fearing,  and  ended  by  promising 
to  lead  him  to  Hate  Hole  the  next  day. 


'j6  The  Story  of  the  RJdnegold 

"  Does  the  world  lie  that  way?"  asked  the  boy. 

*'To  Hate  Hole  it  is  close  at  hand,"  respond- 
ed the  wicked  little  Nibelung,  beginning  to  feel 
rapture  glow  in  his  heart. 

But,  when  Siegfried  again  demanded  the  sword, 
the  smith  fell  once  more  into  despair,  wailing  that 
he  could  not  shape  it,  that  only  one  who  knew  not 
fear  could  forge  it  anew. 

Straight  to  the  hearth  sprang  the  strong  young 
Volsung  with  the  splinters  of  Nothung. 

"  My  father's  blade  will  I  forge  !"  he  cried  ;  and 
he  began  to  move  about  merrily,  brightening  the 
fire  and  hunting  for  the  file  with  which  to  work 
on  the  broken  blade. 

Mime  watched  him  with  wondering  eyes.  So 
swiftly  and  well  did  he  work  that  even  the  clever 
smith  could  not  understand.  And,  as  he  dragged 
at  the  rope  of  the  bellows  and  blew  up  the  fire  in 
the  forge,  this  is  the  song  that  Siegfried  sang : 

'Nothung,  Nothung,  notable  sword! 
Who  did  thy  bright  steel  shiver? 
To  shreds  I  have  shattered  the  noble  blade, 
In  the  pot  I  shall  melt  each  sliver. 

"  Oho,  oho,  aha,  aha,  oho  ! 
Bellows  blow, 
Brighten  the  glow ! 


THE   DEATH    OF   THE    DUAGON 


ij  2  •^  f=S^^=;^  Sz:t;=«^ 


■^mmm 


t^ 


H hu/'l  ,    I  '>_,'! 


>-t- 


Motif  of  the  Niebelungs'  Hate 


Siegfried's  Horn-call 


CHAPTER   II 


HATE     HOLE 

To  Hate  Hole,  in  the  dark  time  before  dawn, 
came  the  Wanderer,  and  found  Albcrich  waiting 
and  watching  near  the  entrance.  The  Dwarf  was 
fearfully  enraged  at  the  sight  of  the  old  god, 
whom  he  hated  with  all  the  strength  of  his  wick- 
ed Nibelung  soul.  He  burst  into  a  torrent  of 
abuse  and  anger  as  Wotan  drew  near,  speaking 
of  the  broken  promise  of  the  giants  and  the  de- 
ceit by  which  the  Gold  had  been  obtained  fron^ 
the  Nibelungs,  and  again  threatening  the  down 
fall  of  the  gods  when  the  Ring  should  come 
back   to   his   hands.     The   Wanderer    answered 


8o  The  Story  of  the  Rhinegold 

quietly  that  a  hero  was  even  then  drawing  near 
through  the  woods — a  hero  fated  to  kill  Fafner 
and  obtain  the  Gold ;  and,  with  hidden  sarcasm, 
he  bade  the  Dwarf  attempt  to  use  the  youth  for 
his  own  ends. 

The  King  God  believed  in  the  workings  of 
Fate.  The  Norns  wove  continually,  and  all  that 
they  wove  came  to  pass.  No  one  could  change 
the  histories  wound  into  their  golden  cord,  un- 
til the  Dusk  of  the  Gods  had  come,  when  they 
also  would,  in  the  Last  Twilight,  be  gone  for- 
ever. So,  feeling  as  he  did,  it  mattered  very 
little  whom  he  aided,  whom  he  harmed.  He 
even  went  so  far  as  to  arouse  Fafner  for  Albe- 
rich,  and  ask  him  to  give  the  Dwarf  the  Ring. 
The  old  Dragon  snarled  and  yawned  and  went 
to  sleep  again.  The  Wanderer  turned  to  the 
Nibelung,  with  a  great  laugh. 

"Listen!"  he  said.  "Remember,  O  Albe- 
rich,  what  I  say.  All  things  work  in  nature's 
course.     You  can  alter  nothing." 

And,  so  saying,  he  vanished  in  the  dark  woods, 
and  a  faint,  pale  flicker  of  lightning  shot  through 
the  forest  as  he  went.  Alberich  crept  hastily 
into  a  crevice  in  the  rocks  on  one  side,  and  the 
dawn  broke  just  as  two  figures  came  into  the 
little  green  glade  by  Hate  Hole. 


Hate  Hole  8 1 

The  figures  were  those  of  Siegfried  and  Mime; 
)r    the    Nibelung,   true   to    his  word,   had   led 
lie  boy  to  the  place  where  he  was  to  learn  to 
iar. 

"  If  you  do  not  hastily  discover  fear  here,  my 

ear   boy,  you   never  will    anywhere,"  said   the 

)warf,  with  a  chuckle.     And  he  described   at 

jjreat  length  the  means  which  Fafner  would  use 

0  teach  the  art,  saying  that  the  Dragon's  breath 

^as  fire,  and  his  twisting  tail  strong  enough  to 

crush  any  hero.     But  Siegfried  merely  laughed, 

and  said  that  he  would  find  the   great  worm's 

heart  and  strike  Nothung  into  that ;  and  then  he 

ade  Mime  be  gone.     The  Nibelung  crept  away 

ut  of  sight  among  the  trees,  and  as  he  went  he 

muttered,  in  an  exasperated  undertone  : 

"  Fafner  and  Siegfried !      Siegfried   and   Faf- 
ner!    Oh,  that  each  might  kill  the  other!" 

The  boy,  left  alone,  sat   under  a  linden-tree, 
looking  up  through  the  branches.   At  first  Mime's 
figure  pervaded  his  brain,  and  he  could  not  help 
emembering  the  horrible  little  creature.     But, 
after  a  while,  thoughts  of  his  mother  crept  in  — 
ery  vague  and  formless  thoughts  —  for  this  for- 
est youth  had  never  in  his  life  seen  a  woman. 
Leaning  back,  he  gave  himself  up  to  the  en- 
chantment of  the  summer-day,  dreaming  boyish 
6 


82  The  Story  of  the  Rhinegold 

dreams,  and  listening  to  the  forest  voices  all 
around  him. 

Have  you  ever  sat  in  a  great,  green  wood  and 
watched  the  soft  flickering  shadows  from  the 
little  leaves  overhead  dance  back  and  forth 
on  the  moss?  Have  you  heard  the  great  surge 
of  music  made  of  a  thousand  tiny  sounds,  the 
hum  of  little,  unseen  insects,  the  ripple  of  far- 
away brooks,  the  faint  sigh  of  the  wind  in  the 
tall  reeds,  the  rustling  of  the  trees,  the  melodies 
that  seemed  made  by  the  touch  of  some  master- 
hand  on  a  great  harp?  That  was  what  Sieg- 
fried saw  and  heard  that  summer  day  when  he 
lay  under  the  linden -tree  and  dreamed  day- 
dreams. 

After  a  while  a  little  bird  began  to  sing  in  the 
tree  above  him,  and  after  listening  for  a  moment, 
and  wondering  whether  it  brought  him  a  mes- 
sage from  his  mother,  he  resolved  to  try  to  imi- 
tate it,  remembering  that  Mime  had  once  said 
that  some  people  were  able  to  talk  with  the 
birds.  So  he  fashioned  a  flute  out  of  a  reed 
and  tried  to  play  upon  it  the  melody  that  the 
bird  sang.  Finally,  however,  he  gave  it  up  in 
despair,  and  instead,  as  he  began  to  feel  lonely, 
he  blew  a  loud  blast  on  his  horn — to  bring  him 
a  friend,  he  said  to  himself. 


Hate  Hole  83 

And  what  sort  of  a  friend  do  you  think  it 
brought  him  ? 

Well,  it  waked  Fafner,  the  monster  worm ; 
and  he  dragged  his  huge  scaly  body  to  the  door 
of  the  cave  and  peered  out,  and  you  may  fancy 
like  what  sort  of  a  friend  he  looked. 

Siegfried  burst  out  into  laughter  when  he  saw 
him. 

"At  last!"  he  cried,  merrily.  "My  call  h^s 
brought  me  something  truly  lovely !" 

"  What  is  that?"  growled  Fafner,  glaring  at  him 
as  though  he  were  a  small  insect  of  some  sort. 

"Hey!  You  can  talk,  can  you?"  cried  Sieg- 
fried. "  Being  so  wise,  you  should  be  able  to 
teach  me  how  to  fear.     I  have  come  for  that." 

Fafner  laughed,  and  showed  his  teeth,  bidding 
the  boy  come  and  be  eaten. 

"I  come,  growler!"  said  the  young  Volsung ; 
and,  drawing  his  sword,  he  sprang  boldly  at  the 
great,  hideous  creature  at  the  cave's  opening. 
Fafner  reared  to  receive  him,  and  the  combat 
began.  It  was  fierce,  but  not  very  long,  for  the 
boy  was  strong  and  Nothung  was  sharp,  and 
soon  Alberich's  spell  had  again  worked  its  mis- 
ery ;  and,  indeed,  it  could  be  said  of  the  dying 
Dragon  that  his  death  was  sad — his  life  had  been 
a  failure. 


84  Tfie  Story  of  the  Rhine  gold 

Before  he  died  he  told  Siegfried  to  beware  of 
Mime,  and  then  spoke  slowly  and  sadly  of  the 
race  of  giants  that  had  come  to  an  end. 

"  Siegfried,"  he  began  once  more  —  but  he 
never  finished,  poor  old  Dragon  ;  for,  just  at  the 
word,  he  rolled  over  and  died.  And  that  was 
the  end  of  the  race  of  giants. 

Stooping  down,  the  young  warrior  drew  his 
sword  from  out  the  Dragon's  heart.  In  so  do- 
ing, a  drop  of  blood  fell  on  his  hand.  It  burn- 
ed like  the  cruellest  fire.  He  raised  it  quickly 
to  his  mouth  to  relieve  the  smarting;  and,  as 
the  blood  touched  his  lips,  a  strange  thing  hap- 
pened—  he  could  understand  the  language  of 
birds.  Yes,  as  the  same  little  singer  that  he 
had  heard  before  began  to  twitter,  he  could 
understand  what  it  was  saying  to  him. 

"Hey!  Siegfried  will  have  now  the  Nibe- 
lung's  hoard !  He  will  find  the  hoard  in  the 
hole.  The  Tarnhelm  would  aid  him  through 
wonderful  deeds ;  but  the  Ring  would  give  him 
might  over  the  world." 

With  a  laugh  and  a  word  of  thanks  to  the  lit- 
tle singer,  the  boy  stepped  into  the  cave  to  look 
for  the  treasure.  At  the  same  minute  Mime 
crept  near  from  behind  the  clump  of  bushes. 
Alberich  sprang  out  from  his  rocky  crevice,  and 


Hate  Hole  85 

the  two  little  Nibelungs  met,  snarling,  capering, 
and  making  faces  with  rage. 

Each  claimed  the  Ring,  and  called  the  oth- 
er names,  and  each  proved  himself  a  marvel  in 
wickedness  and  greed,  and  they  were  nearing  a 
point  when  blows  were  not  far  off  when  the 
hero  himself  stepped  out  from  the  cave  with  the 
Tarnhelm  thrust  into  his  belt,  and  the  Rhinegold 
Ring  upon  his  finger.  The  dwarfs  hastened  out 
of  sight. 

The  heaped- up  hoard  of  the  Nibelungs,  Sieg- 
fried had  left,  for  he  knew  little  of  its  use,  and 
he  cared  nothing  for  wealth.  Indeed,  both  Helm 
and  Ring  he  had  taken  only  because  the  bird  had 
so  advised  him.  He  could  not  fancy  what  good 
either  of  them  would  do  him. 

"  Hey !  Siegfried  has  now  the  Helm  and  the 
Ring !"  sang  the  wood-bird  in  the  tree.  "  Trust 
not  in  Mime !  The  Dragon's  blood  will  tell  Sieg- 
fried what  the  treacherous  Dwarf  really  means." 

At  this  point,  Mime  himself  appeared,  smiling 
and  bowing,  and  holding  in  his  hands  a  horn 
of  wine  for  Siegfried.  He  said  that  it  would 
refresh  the  boy  after  his  labors,  but  we  know 
that  it  was  poisoned.  Thanks  to  the  Dragon's 
blood,  Siegfried  knew  it  too,  and  read  all  the 
cruel  thoughts  that  were  passing  through  Mime's 


86  The  Story  of  the  Rhincgold 

brain,  and,  in  a  burst  of  anger,  he  finally  raised 
his  sword  and  killed  the  treacherous  Dwarf  with 
one  blow. 

So  that  was  the  end  of  the  Nibelung  Mime, 
the  cleverest  smith,  they  say,  that  ever  lived  in 
the  world  —  even  though  he  could  not  fashion 
Nothung,  the  sword.  From  a  black  crevice  in 
the  rocks  came  Alberich's  laugh,  loud  and  mock- 
ing— the  echo  of  his  own  wicked  thoughts. 

Siegfried  turned  away  wearily,  and,  seating  him- 
self under  the  linden,  listened  for  the  bird's  song 
again.  As  it  did  not  come  at  once,  he  looked  up 
into  the  branches  and  spoke: 

"  You  seem  very  happy,  flying  among  your 
brothers  and  sisters,  birdie.  But  I  am  all  alone. 
I  have  no  brothers  nor  sisters,  and  my  father  and 
mother  are  both  dead.  Tell  me  where  I  may  find 
a  loving  friend.  I  have  called  one  so  often,  but 
none  ever  comes."  He  sighed.  "  Sing  now,  sing," 
he  begged  ;  and  again  the  bird's  twitter  sounded 
from  among  the  leaves  above  him. 

"  Hey !  Siegfried  has  slain  now  the  wicked 
Dwarf.  I  know  where  he'll  find  a  glorious  bride. 
On  a  rock  she  sleeps  amid  fire.  If  he  passed 
through  the  blaze  and  awakened  her,  Briinn- 
hilde  would  then  be  his." 

Wild  with  excitement  and  joy,  Siegfried  sprang 


Hate  Hole  87 

to  his  feet  and  asked  if  he  would  really  be  able 
to  do  this. 

"  Briinnhilde  is  won  only  by  him  who  knows 
not  fear,"  said  the  wood-bird,  and  flew  off  before 
him,  guiding  him  through  the  woods. 

In  a  transport  of  joy  Siegfried  followed,  and, 
shouting  with  delight,  he  began  his  journey  to 
the  far-away  rock  in  its  circle  of  flame,  where 
the  Walkiire,  in  her  long  penance  of  sleep,  wait- 
ed for  the  hero  brave  enough  to  pass  through 
the  fire  and  awaken  her. 

Song  of  the  Wood-Bird 


e 


-g— j--g_^Zl^_-t_ 


-^^—4 


-»'  • 


gy^^^^  -    ■'.-.  ^  |.    ^ 


"  Hey  !  Siegfried  has  slain  now  the  wicked  dwarf! 


- !D \ L^ I \ 9. I . ^ 1 U— 


-•- 


V- 


-^N 


■^— i^-J .^ 

I  know  where  he'll  find  a  glo  ri-ous  bride." 


I#^     J       j^f=FJ         \     I   J      ,  J-i 


Motif  of  the  Wanderer 


:-»-,^ 


iP 


^ 


r 


^ 


-i2- 


J 


-i2_ 


S 


-^ 


_i2- 


j2- 


Erda  Motif 


CHAPTER   III 


THE   MOUNTAIN   PASS 


A  WILD  storm  was  raging  among  the  moun- 
tains. Great  winds  swept  down  from  the  high 
peaks  and  up  from  the  valleys  and  crashed  roar- 
ing through  the  woods.  The  thunder  rumbled, 
and  flashes  of  blue  lightning  shot  across  the  dark 
sky.  The  heart  of  the  tempest  seemed  to  be  at 
a  rocky  pass  just  below  the  path  that  led  up  to 
the  Walkiires'  rock. 

Here,  before  a  huge  black  cleft  in  the  side  of 
the  mountain,  stood  the  Wanderer,  the  wild  storm 


The  Mountain  Pass  89 

all  about  him.  With  outstretched  spear  he  was 
singing  a  strange  chant,  an  awakening  song,  down 
into  the  black  chasm  before  him ;  singing  it  to 
the  wise  woman  of  the  world,  Erda,  the  Earth 
Witch. 

He  called  her  by  name,  and  bade  her  rise  from 
her  sleep  and  speak  with  him  ;  and,  as  he  chant- 
ed, a  faint  blue  light  glowed  in  the  chasm,  and 
Erda  rose  slowly  from  the  black  depths.  Frost 
seemed  to  cling  to  her  garments,  and  light 
gleamed  all  about  her.  Her  face  wore  the  same 
look  of  mystery  as  when  she  came  so  many  years 
before  to  warn  Wotan  against  the  Ring. 

In  slow,  dreamy  tones  she  asked  what  the 
Wanderer  wished,  and  why  he  had  aroused  her 
from  her  slumber  of  wisdom.  He  answered  that 
he  had  come  to  ask  her  to  prophesy  once  more; 
to  tell  him  the  wonders  that  she  had  dreamed. 

"  I  sleep  and  dream  !"  answered  the  Earth  God- 
dess. "  I  dream  and  search  for  wisdom.  But, 
while  I  sleep,  the  Norns  are  awake.  They  weave 
their  rope  and  spin.  Why  do  you  not  seek  them 
and  ask  them  your  questions?" 

The  Wanderer  answered  that  they  could  only 
weave  the  histories  of  the  world,  but  that  she,  in 
her  wisdom,  could,  perhaps,  tell  him  how  to  avert 
coming  ill.     But  Erda  shook  her  head  dreamily. 


90  TJie  Story  of  the  Rhine  gold 

as  though  in  a  trance,  and  answered  that  she 
could  tell  him  nothing;  that  the  ways  of  the 
world  bewildered  her,  and  that  she  longed  to 
return  into  her  dark  chasm  and  dream  once 
more. 

But  Wotan  restrained  her.  He  told  her  of 
the  Walkiire's  disobedience  and  his  own  wrath. 
He  spoke  of  the  sorrow  and  grief  that  weighed 
heavily  on  his  mind,  of  his  forebodings,  and  that 
the  Dusk  of  the  Gods  seemed  nearer  and  nearer. 
And,  after  asking  again  for  counsel,  in  vain,  he 
said  that  he  had  grown  to  feel  very  little  dread 
of  the  Dusk  of  the  Gods.  It  was  destiny,  and  he 
almost  longed  for  it.  And  he  spoke  tenderly  of 
the  Volsung,  who  was  even  then  drawing  near 
to  pass  through  the  flame  and  free  the  Walkiire 
from  her  chains  of  sleep. 

When  she  was  awakened,  Wotan  said — gifted 
with  the  power  of  prophecy  for  a  moment — she 
would,  by  some  deed,  release  the  world  from  the 
sadness  that  it  had  labored  under  for  so  lone, 
and  she  would  expiate  the  old  sin  of  the  stealing 
of  the  Gold  that  was  the  beginning  of  the  end  of 
the  Golden  Age. 

"  Then  sleep  once  more !"  said  the  Wanderer. 
"  Dream  and  foresee  the  end  !  Away,  Erda — all- 
fearing,  all-sorrowing ;  away  to  eternal  sleep  !" 


TJie  Mountain  Pass  91 

Slowly  the  Goddess  of  the  Earth  slipped  down 
into  the  darkness,  and  the  blue  light  faded 
away. 

The  storm  had  ceased.  Only  faint,  distant 
rumbles  of  thunder  sounded  in  the  high  hills ; 
faint,  shivering  winds  crept  through  the  moaning 
forest-trees,  and  a  little  light  stole  over  the  moun- 
tain pass  from  the  rising  moon. 

From  the  depths  of  the  forest  came  Siegfried, 
staring  about  him  and  looking  in  vain  for  his 
small  feathered  guide. 

It  had  vanished,  and  he  concluded,  after  a 
moment,  that  he  had  better  go  on  alone,  find 
his  way  to  the  fire-circle  without  a  guide,  and 
awaken  the  sleeping  maiden.  He  started  up  the 
pass ;  but,  suddenly,  a  voice  said  slowly  close 
beside  him : 

"Where  are  you  going,  boy?" 

He  turned  and  saw  the  Wanderer. 

"  Perhaps  he  can  tell  me  the  way,"  thought 
Siegfried  ;  and,  aloud,  he  answered  :  "  I  am  seek- 
ing for  a  rock  surrounded  by  fire.  A  woman 
sleeps  there  whom  I  will  wake." 

The  Wanderer  asked  him  who  suggested  such 
an  idea  to  him,  and  questioned  him  closely  as  to 
his  life  and  deeds. 

Siegfried  answered  simply  and  frankly,  until, 


92  The  Story  of  the  Rhinegold 

when  he  spoke  of  his  good  sword,  the  Wanderer 
burst  into  a  loud  peal  of  laughter. 

"Why  do  you  laugh  at  me?"  asked  the  boy. 
"  Listen,  old  questioner !  Tell  me  the  way,  or, 
if  you  cannot  do  that,  say  nothing  at  all,"  for 
he  was  in  a  thoroughly  bad  humor,  and  in  the 
woods  he  had  never  been  taught  to  accord  old 
age  much  honor.  So  he  strode  up  to  the  Wan- 
derer and  demanded  that  he  should  tell  him  the 
way,  threatening  to  serve  him  like  Mime  if  he 
insisted  on  barring  the  pass.  For  Wotan  was 
standing  directly  before  the  rocky  way,  and,  as 
Siegfried  was  in  great  haste,  it  exasperated  him. 

"  You  will  not  tell  me,  then  ?"  he  said,  finally. 
"  Then  get  out  of  my  way  !  I  will  find  the  rock 
for  myself.  My  little  bird -friend  showed  me  in 
which  direction  the  slumbering  woman  lies." 

"  The  bird  !"  said  Wotan,  wrathfully.  "  It  fled 
to  save  its  life.  The  King -Ravens  barred  its 
way." 

For  the  god  had  sent  his  two  great  birds  to 
turn  back  the  little  guide,  just  as  he  himself  in- 
tended to  attempt  to  turn  back  Siegfried. 

He  had  said  in  his  spell,  when  he  left  Briinn- 
hilde  sleeping  on  the  rock  :  "  Only  one  who  fears 
not  my  spear  can  pass  through  the  fire  bar." 
Now,  this  must  be  the  test.    Would  this  strong, 


The  MoiDitain  I\iss  93 

beautiful  boy  recoil  before  the  haft  made  of  the 
World-Ash,  or  would  the  Dusk  of  the  Gods  come 
through  human  courage,  overthrowing  the  might 
of  the  gods? 

The  Wanderer  stretched  out  his  great  spear, 
the  spear  which  had  strange  figures  upon  it  rep- 
resenting Law  and  Knowledge  ;  the  spear  which 
was  typical  of  the  wisdom  and  the  power  of  the 
gods  ;  the  spear  upon  which  Nothung,  the  sword, 
had  once  been  shattered. 

"The  weapon  you  swing,"  said  the  Wanderer, 
"  was  once  shivered  upon  this  haft.  It  will  again 
snap  on  the  Eternal  Spear." 

Siegfried  drew  his  sword. 

"  Then  you  are  my  father's  enemy  !"  he  cried. 
"  Then  you  broke  his  defence  !  Stretch  out  your 
spear !     My  sword  shall  break  it  in  pieces  !" 

And  a  great  peal  of  thunder  crashed  among 
the  hills  as  Nothung  broke  the  Eternal  Spear 
with  which  Wotan  had  ruled  the  world. 

The  old  god  stooped  and  gathered  up  the 
broken  pieces  of  his  once  mighty  haft,  and, 
with  slow  steps,  passed  out  of  sight  in  the  for- 
est depths.  The  Dusk  of  the  Gods  seemed,  in- 
deed, at  hand. 

As  Siegfried  stood  gazing  after  his  retreating 
figure,  he  suddenly  became  conscious  of  a  great 


94  The  Story  of  the  Rhinegold 

glare  that  seemed  to  grow  brighter  and  brighter 
every  moment.  Looking  up  the  pass  before 
him,  he  beheld  great  billows  of  flame  rolling 
about  a  high  peak  —  billows  that  seemed  to 
surge  down  towards  him  as  though  defying  him 
to  conquer  them. 

"  Ha  !  Wonderful  glow  !"  shouted  Siegfried. 
"In  fire  will  I  bathe!  In  fire  will  I  find  my 
bride !" 

And  blowing  a  long,  clear  call  on  his  silver 
horn,  he  sprang  into  the  sea  of  flame,  and  pass- 
ed up  the  steep,  fiery  way  that  led  to  the  Wal- 
kiires'  rock. 


i 


^-ih 


P\ 


^^ 


r^i-'^^iSlS 


Love  Motif 


Motif  of  Siegfried  the  Protector 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  WALKURES'   ROCK 

The  fire  rolled  and  surged  about  him,  the 
great  red  flames  twisted  around  him,  and  in 
many  colors  the  vistas  opened  here  and  there 
like  rainbow  avenues.  For  the  colors  in  fire  are 
more  beautiful  than  those  in  an  opal. 

As  he  passed  up  the  steep  way,  and  trampled 
the  flames  and  beat  them  back,  laughing  at  their 
scorching  heat,  they  began  to  burn  lower  and 
sank  into  a  narrow,  bright  circle  of  fire  behind 
him ;  unobtrusive  and  not  at  all  fierce,  just,  in 


96  The  Story  of  the  Rhinegold 

fact,  what  they  had  been  until  a  hero  drew  near 
to  pass  through  them.  Then  they  had  done  their 
best  to  keep  him  from  their  fair,  sleeping  cap- 
tive ;  but  they  were  conquered,  the  wild,  bright 
flames;  and  they  died  down  to  almost  nothing 
as  the  Volsung,  still  blowing  a  merry  call  on  his 
horn,  sprang  up  the  rocks  to  the  summit  of  the 
mountain. 

It  was  quiet  and  calm  there,  full  of  deep  peace 
and  silence.  It  seemed  as  if  even  the  trees  and 
flowers  were  asleep.  No  sound  broke  the  still- 
ness, no  leaf  moved  or  insect  darted.  It  was  as 
though  Nature  were  laying  her  finger  on  her  lip 
and  saying,  "Hush  —  hush!  This  place  is  en- 
chanted." 

It  was  broad  day,  and  the  blue  sky,  reaching 
overhead,  seemed  to  smile  down  on  the  young 
hero  as  he  stood  gazing  wonderingly  about  him. 

On  one  side  stretched  the  dark  wood,  reaching 
down  the  mountain-side  —  the  wood  into  which 
his  mother  had  run,  bearing  the  splinters  of 
Nothung,  so  many  years  before.  As  he  looked 
into  the  dark  depths  he  was  amazed  to  see  a  war- 
horse  asleep  under  the  trees.  It  was  Grani,  who 
had  fallen  under  the  same  spell  as  his  mistress. 
As  Siegfried  took  a  step  forward,  he  suddenly 
stopped  short  in  overpowering  surprise.     For  be- 


TJie  Walkiires  Rock  97 

fore  him,  upon  a  rock,  lay  a  figure  clad  in  bright- 
est steel,  with  shield  and  spear  and  helmet  gleam- 
ing in  the  sun. 

"Is  it  a  warrior?"  thought  the  young  Vol- 
sung,  drawing  near — for  Mime  had  described  to 
him  the  bright  armor  the  great  heroes  wore  in 
battle.  "Perhaps,"  thought  Siegfried,  as  he  bent 
over  the  sleeper,  "  he  would  rest  better  if  his  hel- 
met were  loosened."  And  he  unfastened  it  care- 
fully and  took  it  off.  Masses  of  golden  curling 
hair  gleamed  like  sunny  clouds  about  the  fair 
face  of  the  Walkiire. 

"  Ah,  how  beautiful !"  cried  Siegfried,  softly. 
"  The  face  is  like  that  of  the  sun  smiling  be- 
tween mists.". 

He  bent  down  still  lower. 

"How  heavily  he  breathes!  I  would  better 
open  his  armor,"  said  the  boy.  Drawing  his 
sword,  he  cut  off  the  mail  in  which  the  sleeper 
was  arrayed.  When  the  last  ring  was  loosened 
and  he  had  lifted  off  the  suit  of  mail -armor,  he 
started  erect,  filled  with  a  strange,  wonderful 
feeling  that  he  had  never  known  before.  The 
sleeping  Walkiire,  no  longer  dressed  in  steel  like 
a  warrior,  but  in  long,  white,  womanly  robes, 
was  so  marvellous  and  beautiful  that  this  lion- 
hearted  young  Volsung  felt  fear  at  last  in 
7 


98  The  Story  of  the  Rhine  gold 

the  presence  of  the  first  woman  he  had  ever 
seen. 

Timidly  he  drew  near,  wondering  how  he 
should  arouse  her. 

"  Awaken,  beautiful  woman  !"  he  cried,  tremu- 
lously. But  she  did  not  hear.  At  last  he  bent 
over  her  and  kissed  her. 

Briinnhilde  opened  her  eyes. 

Starting  up,  she  lifted  both  arms  towards  the 
sky,  and  cried,  in  glad  though  solemn  tones, 

"  Hail,  O  sun  !  Hail,  O  light  !  Hail,  O  glori- 
ous day  !  Long  was  my  sleep — I  am  awakened  ! 
Where  is  the  hero  who  awakes  me  ?" 

The  young  Volsung,  drawing  timidly  near,  an- 
swered that  it  was  he  who  had  come  through  the 
fire  and  awakened  her,  and  that  his  name  was 
Siegfried ;  and  he  said,  too,  that,  as  she  had  first 
aroused  fear  in  his  heart,  she  must  bring  his  cour- 
age back  to  him.  Passionately,  he  told  her  that 
he  loved  her;  but  Briinnhilde  could  not  remem- 
ber that  she  was  no  longer  a  Walkiire,  and  at 
first  she  did  not  want  to  be  a  woman  and  a  mor- 
tal's wife — however  great  that  mortal  might  be. 

But,  after  a  time,  with  a  sudden  great  rush  of 
passion,  she  felt  in  some  strange  way  that  she 
cared  no  longer  for  the  gods  and  their  glory,  and 
loved  only  Siegfried,  and  longed  to  serve  him  and 


The  Walkure  s  Rock 


99 


be  his  wife.  So  she  promised  to  marry  him,  and 
she  said  that  the  Norns  might  break  their  rope 
of  histories,,  for  the  Dusk  of  the  Gods  drew  near 
She  taught  Siegfried  many  strange  things  and 
much  wisdom — the  wisdom  of  the  gods.  And  she 
gave  him  her  weapons,  forgot  that  she  had  ever 
been  a  Walkure,  and  loved  him  with  all  her  heart. 


^^ 


S 


^ 


-^- 


IS 


i 


r 


i 


Motif  of  Peace 


I 


THE  ^^    HF    T  ^_;  ^R 


-^  1- 


f 


Motif  of  the   World-Ash-Tree 


PRELUDE 


Holding  in  his  hand  his  broken  spear,  the 
king  of  the  gods  wended  his  way  to  Walhalla. 
He  sent  forth  stanch  messengers  to  hew  the 
World -Ash  into  a  thousand  pieces  and  pile 
them  high  about  the  gods'  palace.  Then  he  as- 
sembled round  him  his  heroes  and  the  Walkures 
and  the  rest  of  the  divinities,  and  sat  in  silence 
awaiting  the  Dusk  of  the  Gods. 

All  the  gods,  far  and  wide,  knew  that  the  Last 
Twilight  was  impending  ;  and  fate  relentlessly  led 
all  things  to  the  end.  To  the  Walkiires'  rock  came 
the  Norns  in  the  gray  of  dawn  to  spin.  From 
hand  to  hand  passed  the  golden  cord.  Each  told 
a  history  in  gloomy,  chanting  measures. 

The  oldest  Norn  sang  of  the  days  when  the 
World-Ash  was  green  and  the  Fountain  of  Wis- 
dom purled  softly  in  the  shadow  of  the  wide 
branches.     She  sang  of  Wotan's  coming  to  the 


104  ^^^^  Story  of  the  RJiinegold 

spring  and  drinking ;  of  the  tearing  of  the  limb 
from  the  World -Ash;  of  the  withering  of  the 
great  tree.  Her  song  ceased.  She  flung  the 
cord  to  her  sister. 

The  second  Norn  wound  slowly  as  she  sang. 
Her  tale  was  of  the  making  of  the  great  spear 
with  which  Wotan  had  ruled  the  world  until  one 
stronger  than  the  gods  had  shivered  the  haft 
and  overpowered  the  Ruler.  She  sang  of  how 
Wotan  had  now  ordered  that  the  World-Ash 
should  be  broken  and  piled  about  Walhalla.  She 
paused,  and  the  youngest  Norn  took  the  rope. 

She  sang  of  the  bright  palace  where  Wotan 
sat  among  the  gods  and  heroes,  with  the  great 
fagots  from  the  World-Ash  heaped  around  him. 
She  sang  that,  when  these  fagots  should  be  light- 
ed and  Walhalla  burned,  the  Dusk  of  the  Gods 
would  come. 

They  sang  of  many  strange  events — these 
Norns  —  events  of  the  past,  of  the  present,  of 
the  future.  They  sang  of  the  circle  of  fire  lit 
by  Logi  about  the  rock.  They  sang  of  the 
Rhinegold  stolen  by  Alberich ;  they  sang  long 
and  sadly  of  the  gods  and  their  king. 

"  The  web  is  tangled,"  said  the  first  Norn. 

"  Alberich's  spell  tears  at  the  strands,"  said  the 
second,  and  flung  it  to  the  third. 


DRINNHTIDE    ON    THE    WALRUKES     ROCK 


Prelude  105 

"I  cannot  reach  the  rope  —  it  is  too  short," 
said  the 'youngest,  putting  out  her  hand. 

The  cord  snapped.  It  had  stretched  across 
the  past,  but  it  could  not  touch  the  future.  It 
was,  indeed,  too  short. 

"  It  breaks !"  wailed  the  Norns,  crouching  in 
dread,  as  the  faint  light  of  day  appeared. 

"At  an  end  is  our  wisdom!"  they  murmured 
in  chorus,  and  wound  the  broken  bits  of  the 
rope  about  their  gray-shrouded  bodies;  then  fled 
like  mist  into  the  earth,  down  to  their  mother, 
Erda,  the  all-wise  one,  she  who  had  first  prophe- 
sied the  Dusk  of  the  Gods. 

*  -H-  ^«-  *  *  * 

When  she  had  taught  him  all  the  wisdom 
that  she  knew,  and  given  him  all  she  had,  Briinn- 
hilde  bade  her  hero  go  forth  into  the  world  and 
win  fame  and  honor  by  great  deeds.  He  must 
journey  to  the  far  lands  peopled  by  brave  men 
and  high  heroes  and  prove  his  courage  and  his 
strength.  She  would  wait  for  him  patiently,  and 
he  would  come  back  to  her  when  he  had  made 
all  men  know  and  honor  him. 

She  gave  him  Grani,  her  stanch  war-horse,  and 
he  placed  on  her  finger  as  a  parting  love-gift  the 
beautiful  bright  Ring  that  he  had  won  at  Hate 
Hole,  and  then  he  bade  her  farewell,  and  blithe- 


io6 


The  Story  of  the  Rhine  gold 


ly  passed  down  the  mountain  -  side,  blowing  a 
clear,  merry  blast  on  his  horn. 

Briinnhilde  stood  on  the  Walkiires'  rock  and 
gazed  yearningly  after  him,  and  the  young  hero 
went  forth  into  far  lands  to  know  men  and  do 
great  deeds,  and  find  at  last  that  strange  place 
called  the  world. 


t3^    -^ 


Motif  of  Briinnhilde 


u — I — u-5#-*^ 


g)-« ^ —  — ^     i      ^ »-g-»-4tf  ^^  tiS-r-P- 


Motif  of  the  Gibichungs 


li     -37- 


Motif  of  Hagen 


CHAPTER   I 
THE   HALL   OF   THE   GIBICHUNGS 

On  the  banks  of  the  river  Rhine  there  lived 
a  great  warrior  named  Gunther,  who  was  one  of 
a  valiant  race  called  Gibichungs.  He  was  the 
head  of  a  great  tribe  of  kinsmen  and  vassals,  and 
his  lands  were  wide  and  his  halls  spacious.  His 
sister,  Gutrune,  was  a  maiden  very  fair  and  sweet 
to  look  upon,  as  beautiful  as  her  brother  was 
brave.  They  were  both  generous  and  noble,  and 
would  have  done  nothing  but  good  all  their  lives 


io8  The  Story  of  the  RJiinegold 

had  it  not  been  for  the  evil  influence  of  their  wick- 
ed half-brother  Hagen,  the  son  of  Alberich,  the 
Nibelung.  When  their  father,  the  brave  Gibich, 
had  died,  their  mother,  Grimhilde,  had  wedded 
the  Nibelung,  and  after  a  while  had  died  herself, 
leaving  wild,  dark  Hagen  as  a  brother  to  Gun- 
ther  and  Gutrune. 

He  was  a  sinister  and  gloomy  warrior,  with 
gleaming  black  eyes  and  blood  that  seemed  of 
ice,  for  never  did  his  cheek  flush  or  his  lip  red- 
.i..^den.  Pale  he  was  and  cold,  dark-haired  and  sad, 
and  his  heart  was  black  and  cruel.  He,  too,  was 
working  to  obtain  the  Rhinegold. 

One  day  Gunther,  sitting  on  a  high  throne  be- 
side his  sister,  asked  Hagen  what  greater  wealth 
could  belong  to  the  Gibichungs ;  what  deed  their 
chief  could  do  that  would  aid  the  good  fortune 
of  the  race  and  its  vassals. 

Hagen  answered  that  it  would  be  fitting  for  the 
head  of  the  Gibichungs  to  wed,  and  he  craftily 
told  Gunther  of  the  fire-encirled  rock  where  dwelt 
the  fair  maiden,  Brunnhilde.  The  fire  could  only 
be  conquered,  he  said,  by  Siegfried,  the  Volsung, 
who  would  make  a  fitting  husband  for  Gutrune. 

Now,  Hagen  knew  that  Siegfried  had  already 
won  the  Walkure ;  but  he  was  laying  a  plot,  and 
the  plot  was  wicked  and  deep.     He  told  Gun- 


TJie  Hall  of  the  Gibiclmngs  109 

ther  that  Siegfried  would  go  through  the  fire 
and  bring  Brunnhilde  to  the  Rhine  Chief  if  he 
could  be  given  a  magic-potion  —  a  potion  that 
would  make  him  love  Gutrune. 

While  they  spoke  of  these  things,  a  horn  was 
heard,  in  the  distance  at  first,  but  coming  nearer 
and  nearer.  Soon  a  boat  came  down  the  river 
Rhine — a  wide  barge — holding  a  horse  and  a  tall 
man  in  bright  armor.  Siegfried,  in  his  travels 
through  the  world,  had  heard  of  the  Gibichungs, 
and  had  come  to  see  the  great  Rhine  Chief, 
Gunther.  As  the  boat  touched  the  shore,  he 
sprang  from  it,  and  hailed  the  warrior,  in  loud 
tones,  asking  if  he  would  be  friend  or  enemy. 
In  answer,  Gunther  said  that  his  house,  his  lands, 
his  people  were  all  at  the  service  of  the  hero 
whose  fame  had  reached  even  the  hall  of  the 
Gibichungs;  and  Siegfried  offered  the  strength 
of  his  arm  and  the  might  of  his  sword  for  Gun- 
ther's  defence  and  aid  at  all  times. 

So  they  made  a  vow,  promising  to  remain  true 
to  each  other,  as  heroes  and  brave  men  should. 

"  I  have  heard  that  you  hold  the  Nibelungs' 
hoard,"  said  Hagen,  when  Gutrune,  at  a  sign 
from  him,  had  left  the  hall,  and  the  three  war- 
riors were  alone. 

"  I  left  it  in  the  cavern,"  said  Siegfried.     "  I 


no  TJie  Story  of  the  Rhine  gold 

cared  nothing  for  the  Gold.  This  is  all  I  took  " 
— and  he  showed  the  Tarnhelm.  "  What  is  its 
use — do  you  know?" 

"  It  is  the  most  artful  of  all  the  Nibelung's 
work,"  said  Hagen.  "  It  will  change  you  to 
whatever  shape  you  will,  and  carry  you  to  the 
farthest  lands  in  a  moment,  if  it  is  your  wish. 
Did  you  take  any  more  of  the  hoard  ?" 

Siegfried  answered  that  he  had  carried  away 
a  Ring,  but  that  it  was  now  worn  by  a  beauti- 
ful woman. 

Even  as  he  spoke,  Gutrune,  the  fair  lady  of  the 
Gibichungs,  came  out  from  her  room  at  one  side 
of  the  hall,  bearing  a  drinking-horn,  which  she 
offered  to  Siegfried.  It  was  customary  in  those 
days  that  a  maiden  should  offer  wine  to  a  guest 
coming  to  the  house  of  her  race.  So  Siegfried, 
without  a  thought,  lifted  the  horn  and  drank  the 
mixture,  saying  softly  to  himself:  "  Briinnhilde, 
I  drink  to  you  !" 

But,  alas!  it  was  not  wine  that  was  in  the 
drinking-horn,  but  the  love-potion — the  terrible 
magic  potion  —  which,  as  it  touched  the  hero's 
lips,  laid  a  cloud  upon  his  memory  and  a  fire 
within  his  heart,  so  that  he  straightway  forgot 
Brunnhilde  and  loved  only  Gutrune,  the  lady  of 
the  Gibichungs. 


GUTRUNE    AND    SIEGFRIED 


The  Hall  of  the  Gibichungs  1 1 1 

As  he  gazed  passionately  upon  her,  she  turned 
away,  filled,  perhaps,  with  momentary  regret  for 
what  she  had  done,  and  left  the  hall  in  silence. 

When  she  had  gone,  Siegfried  stood  looking 
after  her  for  a  moment,  and  then,  arousing  him- 
self from  his  reverie,  turned  to  Gunther,  asking 
if  he  were  married. 

The  Rhine  Chief  replied  that  he  had  never 
wed,  because  only  one  bride  would  satisfy  him, 
and  she  was  out  of  reach  of  even  his  valor ;  for 
she  was  surrounded  by  fire,  and  only  he  who 
could  pass  through  the  blaze  could  win  her. 

Merrily,  Siegfried  replied  that  he  would  go 
through  the  flame  and  bring  the  bride  to  Gun- 
ther if  he  might  have  in  payment  Gutrune  for 
his  wife. 

And  the  two  heroes  went  through  a  ceremony, 
very  binding  in  those  days,  which  was  called  the 
Oath  of  Brotherhood.  It  meant  that  they  must 
remain  as  faithful  to  each  other  as  though  they 
were  really  brothers,  and  that  should  one  prove 
false  to  his  vow  the  other  would  have  the  right 
to  kill  him. 

Then  the  two  entered  the  boat  and  went 
away  down  the  Rhine,  Siegfried  to  take  Gun- 
ther's  shape,  with  the  aid  of  the  Tarnhelm,  and 
go  through  the  fire  to  win  the  maiden ;  Gunther 


112 


The  Story  of  the  Rhinegold 


to  wait  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine  until  Sieg- 
fried brought  him  the  bride,  and  then  took  his 
own  shape  once  more. 

Hagen,  left  alone  in  the  hall,  mused  deeply  as 
night  drew  near. 

"  Siegfried,  unknowing,  brings  his  own  bride 
to  the  Rhine.  He  brings  vie  the  Ring!''  He 
paused,  and  then  continued,  in  tones  of  bitter 
scorn :  "  Little  as  I  deem  you  all,  you  brave 
partners  and  happy  companions — small  as  you 
are,  and  as  I  hold  your  natures — you  still  may 
serve  the  need  of  the  Nibelung's  son  !" 


Motif  of  the  Love-Potion 


Motif  of  the  Magic-fire  Circle 


CHAPTER    II 
THE   WALKURES'    ROCK   ONCE    MORE 

As  afternoon  darkened  into  evening  Briinn- 
hilde  sat  on  her  high  rock  looking  at  the  Ring 
on  her  finger  with  loving  eyes,  and  thinking  ten- 
derly of  the  hero  who  had  placed  it  there,  and 
who  was  perhaps,  even  then,  leaving  the  paths 
of  men  to  come  to  her  side  once  more. 

Suddenly  a  flash  of  lightning  appeared  across 
the  sky  and  a  clap  of  thunder  sounded  far  away. 
Strange  sounds  broke  the  stillness,  sounds  well 
remembered  by  her:  the  hoofs  of  wind-horses 
speeding  through  the  clouds,  the  whistling  of 
rushing  blasts,  the  ring  of  steel  armor.  Starting 
up  in  wild  excitement,  she  saw  a  black  thunder- 
cloud rushing  towards  the  rock. 


114  The  Story  of  the  Rhinegold 

"  Briinnhilde !  Sister!  Are  you  asleep  or 
awake?"  called  the  clear  voice  of  one  of  the 
warrior  goddesses,  as  a  war-horse  sprang  to  earth 
from  the  midst  of  the  clouds. 

With  a  cry  of  joy  Briinnhilde  ran  to  meet  the 
Walkiire,  saying : 

"  Waltraute,  truest  sister,  welcome !"  and  ask- 
ing tenderly  about  the  rest  of  the  maidens  and 
her  father  Wotan. 

But  Waltraute  was  sad  and  anxious,  and  seem- 
ed in  fearful  haste.  She  interrupted  Briinnhilde's 
passionate  description  of  her  hero  and  her  happi- 
ness in  his  love  by  sad  words  of  the  gloom  that 
reigned  in  Walhalla,  She  told  the  story  of  the 
hewing  of  the  World-Ash,  the  fagots  piled  high 
about  the  great  palace ;  of  the  gods  and  heroes 
assembled  in  awe.  She  spoke  of  Wotan  sitting 
in  silence  holding  his  broken  spear  in  his  hand. 

She  said  that  once,  and  once  only,  had  he 
spoken,  and  that  he  had  then  said :  "  When  the 
Rhine  daughters  gain  from  Briinnhilde  the  Ring 
the  world  will  be  released  from  the  power  of  the 
spell." 

Waltraute  begged  Briinnhilde  to  give  her  the 
Ring,  so  that  she,  Waltraute,  might  carry  it  to 
the  Rhine  Maidens. 

"  If  you  wish,  you  may  ward  off  the  shadow 


The  Walkiires    Rock  O^ice  More  115 

of  the  gods,"  said  the  Walkure,  kneeling  at  her 
sister's  feet.  But  Brunnhilde  looked  at  her  as 
though  in  a  trance. 

"Like  a  sorrowful  dream  it  seems  —  this  that 
you  tell  me.  I  do  not  understand  it.  I  am  no 
longer  one  of  the  gods.  You,  pale  sister— what 
have  you  to  do  with  me?" 

Passionately,  Waltraute  asked  for  the  Ring 
which  she  wore,  but  Brunnhilde  replied  that  it 
was  Siegfried's  love -gift,  and  that  she  would 
never  give  it  up.  Again  Waltraute  besought 
her,  for  the  sake  of  the  gods,  the  bright  mighty 
gods,  wl.o  were  going  to  destruction,  to  give  up 
the  magic  circlet. 

Brunnhilde  answered  quietly  that  she  prized 
love  mere  than  the  welfare  of  all  the  gods,  and 
that  the  Ring  was  dearer  to  her  than  the  palace 
of  Walhalla  ;  and  she  bade  Waltraute  be  gone, 
refusing    once    for    all    to    give    up    Siegfried's 

gift. 

"  Woe  !  woe  !"  wailed  the  Walkure,  speedmg 
wildly  away.  "Woe  for  you,  sister!  Woe  for 
the  gods  in  Walhalla  !     Woe  !" 

She    was    gone,    amid    thunder    and    rushing 

winds. 

Sitting  again  on  the  rock  alone,  Brunnhilde 
looked  down  to  where  the  guarding  fire -circle 


ii6  The  Story  of  the  Rhinegold 

burned  brighter  and  brighter.  A  horn  -  call 
sounded  in  the  distance. 

"  Siegfried  !"  cried  Briinnhilde,  rushing  for- 
ward. 

But  who  was  that  who  sprang  from  out  the 
fire  and  stood  before  her?  Not  Siegfried,  sure- 
ly, but  some  stranger  —  a  stranger  with  face 
partly  masked  by  a  curious  helmet  of  some 
sort. 

No  wonder  that  she  did  not  recognize  her 
hero  in  the  man  before  her,  who,  by  the  aid  of 
the  Tarnhelm,  bore  the  semblance  of  Gunther, 
the  Gibichung.  He  told  her  that  he  had  come 
to  take  her  away  with  him  and  marry  her ; 
and  when  she  ordered  him  to  yield  before  the 
strength  of  the  mighty  Ring  on  her  finger,  he 
caught  her  hand  and  tore  the  circlet  from  it, 
placing  it  on  his  own. 

"Now  yield  to  me!  You  must  be  my  wife," 
he  commanded  ;  and,  weak  and  powerless,  Briinn- 
hilde was  conquered  and  led  away  by  the  war- 
rior, who  was  none  other  than  Siegfried  —  had 
she  but  known  it ! — Siegfried,  her  hero,  who  did 
not  remember  her  at  all,  and  only  looked  upon 
her  as  the  bride  of  his  brother-hero  Gunther,  the 
bride  that  must  be  delivered  safely  into  the  real 
Gibichung's  hand. 


BRUNMUI.DE    AND    SIEGFRIED 


The  Walkiires    Rock  Otice  More 


117 


For  Siegfried  cared  nothing  for  her  himself, 
and  thought  only  of  the  fair  maiden  down  in  the 
great  hall  built  upon  the  shore  of  the  Rhine — 
Gutrune,  the  lady  of  the  Gibichungs. 

And  that  was  how  the  Nibelung's  spell  again 
brought  sorrow  and  misery  to  the  wearer  of  the 
Rhinegold's  Ring. 


Tarnhelm  Motif 


3? 


$t 


J^L 


Gutrune   Motif 


^    A  A 


^ 


&^-^< 


1 


^i 


P'=?— p^^jw^ 


iat 


Motif  of  Revenge 


CHAPTER    III 
THE   RHINE   CHIEF'S   BRIDE 

It  was  night  on  the  Rhine.  Hagen  sat  asleep 
before  the  hall  of  the  Gibichungs,  leaning  against 
a  pillar.  Before  him  crouched  his  Nibelung  fa- 
ther, Alberich,  who  had  come  to  speak  with  him 
through  his  dreams. 

They  spoke  of  the  Rhinegold  in  mysterious 
undertones,  Hagen  in  the  voice  of  one  who 
talks  in  sleep.  They  spoke  of  the  Dusk  of  the 
Gods  which  drew  near  so  quickly,  and  of  the 
might  which  would  be  theirs  when  the  Ring 
fell  into  their  hands.  And  until  dawn  came 
they  concocted  plots  deep  and  cruel. 

Then  the  Nibelung's  small,  dark  figure  disap- 


The  Rhine  Chief's  Bride  119 

peared  in  a  pale  mist,  and  all  that  was  left  of 
him  was  the  echo  of  his  voice,  as  he  called, 
faintly,  while  vanishing : 

"  Be  true,  Hagen,  my  son  ;  be  true  !  Be  true  ! 
True !"     The  voice  died  away  into  silence. 

As  the  dawn  broke  and  the  rising  sun  was 
mirrored  brightly  in  the  Rhine,  Hagen  awoke 
with  a  start.  At  the  same  moment  Siegfried 
appeared,  saying  that  he  had  hastened  to  the 
hall  of  the  Gibichungs  with  the  aid  of  the  Tarn- 
helm,  leaving  Gunther  and  his  bride  to  follow 
in  a  barge  up  the  Rhine. 

As  Gutrune  came  out  to  meet  him,  he  hailed 
her  exultantly,  saying  that  he  had  won  her  as 
wife  when  he  brought  the  wild  mountain- maid 
to  her  brother.  He  told  her  and  Hagen  the  tale 
of  how  he  had  gone  through  the  fire  and  found 
the  woman  within  the  enchanted  circle,  and  had 
conquered  her,  and  had  brought  her  to  Gunther, 
who  had  waited  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain. 
The  only  thing  that  he  did  not  tell  them  was 
that  he  had  torn  the  Ring  from  the  woman's  fin- 
ger, and  so  vanquished  her.  Strange  to  say,  he 
had  forgotten  that  as  completely  as  he  had  for- 
gotten his  old  love  for  Briinnhilde  and  his  first 
journey  through  the  fire.  Now,  when  he  looked 
at  the  bright  circlet  on  his  finger,  he  remembered 


I20  The  Story  of  the  RJiinegold 

that  it  was  one  which  he  had  obtained  at  Hate 
Hole,  but  had  forgotten  that  it  had  ever  left  his 
hand.    So  that  was  the  beginning  of  more  sorrow. 

Siegfried  and  Gutrune  went  into  the  hall  to- 
gether, and  Hagen  called  the  vassals  about  him 
from  far  and  wide  to  welcome  the  bride  to  her 
new  home  on  the  Rhine.  When  the  barge  came 
slowly  up  the  river,  strong  warriors  plunged  into 
the  water  to  meet  it,  and  dragged  the  boat  close 
to  the  shore.  From  the  hall  came  Gutrune,  full  of 
welcome  and  kindness.  For  you  know  she  had 
no  idea  it  was  Briinnhilde  whom  she  had  caused 
the  hero  to  forget,  and  she  was  really  glad  to 
greet  her  brother's  bride.  At  her  side  walked 
Siegfried,  and  they  were  followed  by  innumer- 
able women  who  had  come  trooping  out  to  be- 
hold the  new  lady  of  the  Gibichungs. 

But,  as  Gunther  led  his  pale,  sad  bride  from 
the  boat,  she  suddenly  stood  still,  trembling  and 
shuddering,  and  staring  with  wild,  bewildered 
eyes  at  Siegfried.  Her  voice  shook  and  her 
face  was  as  white  as  death  as  she  asked  how  he 
came  there  with  Gutrune ;  and  when  he  showed 
that  he  had  totally  forgotten  her  and  looked 
upon  her  only  as  Gunther's  bride,  she  staggered 
and  sank  into  the  young  hero's  arms,  whisper- 
ing, faintly  and  sorrowfully : 


The  Rhine  Chief's  Bride  121 

*'  Sieefried  knows  me  not  !" 

Calling  to  Gunther  to  come  near,  the  Volsung 
pointed  to  him  and  bade  poor  Briinnhilde  arouse 
herself,  for  the  great  chief's  sake.  But,  as  Sieg- 
fried stretched  out  his  hand,  she  saw  the  Ring, 
and,  starting  wildly  up,  asked  furiously  how  he 
came  by  it  —  saying  that  Gunther  had  torn  it 
from  her  on  the  Walkiires'  rock,  and  demand- 
ing of  Gunther  why  he  had  given  it  to  Siegfried. 

Now,  of  course,  the  Rhine  Chief  had  never 
even  seen  the  Ring,  and  thought,  not  unnatu- 
rally, that  Siegfried  had  taken  it  from  Brunnhilde 
and  then  kept  it  for  himself  from  a  feeling  of 
greed  and  a  desire  to  possess  it.  The  young 
hero,  when  questioned,  merely  answered  that  it 
was  one  he  had  found  at  Hate  Hole,  and  that 
he  had  won  it  from  no  woman,  but  a  monster 
worm  which  he  had  killed.  And  he  thought 
that  he  was  telling  the  whole  truth,  for  it  was 
all  that  he  could  remember. 

But  Brunnhilde,  who  knew  nothing  of  the 
magic-potion,  saw  in  his  words  the  deepest  and 
most  terrible  deceit,  and  she  burst  into  such  rage 
and  despair  that  Siegfried  declared  that  he  would 
try  to  satisfy  her  by  swearing  the  Spear-Oath. 

So  Hagen  held  out  his  spear,  and  Siegfried 
placed  his  hand  upon  the  point  and  declared  by 


122  TJie  Story  of  the  RJ line  gold 

the  haft  of  war  that  he  had  never  harmed  the 
woman,  or  been  for  a  moment  false  to  Gunther, 
and  bade  that  very  spear  bring  him  death  if  he 
had. 

Breaking  into  the  circle  which  the  warriors 
made  around  Siegfried,  Brunnhilde  declared  him 
a  traitor  and  deceiver,  and  called  down  the  ven- 
geance of  the  gods  upon  his  head. 

For  her  heart  was  broken,  poor  Brunnhilde  ! 
and  she  hardly  knew  what  she  said  or  did ;  so 
that  when  Siegfried  and  the  others  ceased  try- 
ing to  pacify  her  and  left  her  alone  with  Gun- 
ther and  Hagen,  and  when  the  latter  crept  up 
to  her  and  said  that  he  would  avenge  her  wrongs 
and  kill  the  hero  who  had  made  her  love  him 
and  had  then  deserted  her,  she  told  him  how  to 
do  it.  She  said  that  she  had  placed  divine  spells 
of  protection  upon  every  part  of  his  body  ex- 
cept his  back. 

"  For  I  knew,"  said  Brunnhilde,  with  momen- 
tary  tenderness,  "  that  he  was  too  brave  to  ever, 
in  flight,  turn  that  to  an  enemy." 

"At  his  back  shall  my  spear-point  strike!"  said 
Hagen,  exultantly.  "  In  his  back  shall  he  be 
wounded  unto  death  !" 

Raising  her  arms  towards  the  sky,  Brunnhilde 
broke   into   wild,  passionate  words   of   revenge. 


GUNTHEK    AND     UKUNN  11 1  l.Uli 


Tlie  Rhine  Chief's  Bride  123 

For  she  had  almost  lost  her  reason  through  the 
shock  of  sorrow  at  finding  Siegfried  false  to  her, 
and  she  declared  that  that  was  the  sacrifice  that 
was  needed  to  lift  the  sorrow  off  so  many  hearts; 
that  was  the  one  great  deed  that  must  bring 
relief  after  so  much  misery.  Earth  and  heaven 
cried  aloud  for  one  thing,  she  said — Siegfried's 
death. 

As  she  stood,  almost  transfigured  by  her  own 
words,  sounds  of  joy  and  merriment  drew  near, 
and  the  wedding  procession  of  Siegfried  and 
Gutrune  passed  by.  Gunther  caught  Briinn- 
hilde's  hand  and  drew  her  into  the  crowd  of 
men  and  women,  and  she  passed  on  with  the 
other  bridal  couple  to  be  married. 

Loudly  and  merrily  rang  the  laughter,  and  the 
sounds  of  festivity  rose  high.  But  Hagen,  like  a 
dark,  evil  spirit,  laughed,  because  he  seemed  at 
last  so  near  to  his  desires. 


— iS*- 


ifrj_ 

_g-S?-J__ 


tJ —- 


tr 


fl  -^^. 


^ 


Motif  of  the  Rhine-Maidens'  Prophecy 


±«t 


Fate   Motif 


CHAPTER    IV 


ON    THE   BANKS    OF   THE   RHINE 


Where  the  steep  rocks  led  down  to  the  river 
Rhine,  and  the  low  shrubs  grew  in  green  luxu- 
riance, where  the  wildest  part  of  the  wild  forest 
was  mirrored  in  the  water,  came  the  three  water- 
fairies,  Woglinde,  Flosshilde,  and  Wellgunde,  to 
sing  in  the  quiet,  golden  light  of  the  late  after- 
noon. They  sang  sorrowfully  and  regretfully  of 
their  lost  treasure ;  they  circled  like  wind-ripples 
upon  the  surface  of  the  Rhine,  and  tossed  the 


On  the  Banks  of  the  Rhine  125 

bright  drops  of  water  about  with  a  soft,  splash- 
ing sound  as  of  tiny  bells.  The  river  murmured 
like  a  harp  lightly  played  upon  by  fairy  fin- 
gers, and  the  voices  of  the  nymphs  were  as 
sweet  as  the  tones  of  the  wind  moving  through 
the  rushes. 

To  this  lovely,  magic-haunted  spot  came  Sieg- 
fried, looking  for  a  bear  which  he  had  wound- 
ed during  a  hunt,  and  had  tracked  through  the 
woods.  The  nymphs  began  to  talk  to  him,  and 
as  he  answered  merrily  they  drew  nearer  to  the 
rock  where  he  stood,  telling  him  that  they  would 
see  that  he  found  his  bear  if  he  would,  in  pay- 
ment, give  them  the  Ring  that  he  wore  upon  his 
finger. 

Laughingl}^  he  answered  that  he  had  slain  a 
dragon  before  he  could  obtain  that  Ring,  and 
that  it  would  be  foolish  to  give  it  up  now  for 
the  sake  of  a  bear. 

After  a  few  more  merry  words  the  nymphs  be- 
came suddenly  serious.  Rising  together  to  the 
surface  of  the  water,  they  raised  their  arms  tow- 
ards him  and  spoke  solemn  words  of  proph- 
ecy. They  told  him  that  sadness  awaited  him  ; 
that  the  Ring  would  bring  him  nothing  but 
ill-hap ;  that  it  was  made  of  the  stolen  Rhine- 
gold,  and    that   a  spell  had   been    laid   upon   it 


126  The  Story  of  the  Rliinegold 

that  brought  sorrow  and  death  to  whoever  pos- 
sessed it. 

"As  the  monster  worm  fell,"  said  the  Rhine 
Maidens,  slowly,  "so  will  you  fall  —  and  soon! 
Give  it  to  us,  that  we  may  hide  it  in  the  river ! 
For  that  alone  can  break  the  spell." 

And,  as  Siegfried  laughingly  shook  his  head, 
they  continued  to  plead  still  more  earnestly. 
They  bade  him  avoid  the  spell,  saying  that  its 
history  had  been  woven  into  the  Norns'  great 
rope ;  that  it  must  be  shunned  and  feared.  But 
Siegfried  scoffed  at  the  Norns  and  the  rope,  and 
said  that  Fafner  had  warned  him  of  this  danger 
long  ago  ;  that  he  had  no  fear  of  his  life,  and 
would  freely  fling  that  away. 

"  Farewell,  Siegfried !"  said  the  Rhine  Maid- 
ens, as  they  turned  to  leave  him.  "A  stately 
woman  will  soon  possess  your  circlet.  She  will 
better  do  our  bidding.     Let  us  go  to  her!" 

They  swam  swiftly  away,  leaving  Siegfried 
laughing  on  the  shore.  For  he  thought  noth- 
ing of  their  words,  believing  their  prophecies 
to  have  been  threats  because  he  would  not  give 
them  what  they  wished. 

Laughing  still,  he  blew  a  long  call  on  his  horn, 
which  was  answered  on  all  sides  by  the  other 
hunters,  who  soon  made  their  appearance,  most 


On  the  Banks  of  the  Rhine  127 

of  them  carrying  game  of  some  sort  —  bear  or 
deer;  and  Hagen,  who  was  one  of  the  first  to 
come  into  the  little  glen  down  by  the  Rhine, 
made  sport  of  Siegfried,  because  he,  the  best 
hunter  of  them  all,  had  no  booty  to  show  for  his 
day's  sport. 

Siegfried  laughingly  told  them  about  the  three 
Rhine  Maidens  who  had  warned  him  of  his  ap- 
proaching death ;  and  Gunther,  moving  apart 
from  the  others  with  a  curious  shadow  and  sad- 
ness on  his  face,  started  terribly,  while  Hagen 
merely  laughed  a  harsh,  revengeful  laugh. 

Gunther  did  not  forget  his  Oath  of  Brother- 
hood ;  and,  though  he  believed  that  Siegfried 
had  deceived  him,  he  hated  to  harm  him,  or  allow 
him  to  be  harmed,  without  better  cause.  He 
shuddered  and  shook  his  head  when  the  young 
hero  brought  him  the  horn  of  wine.  The  rest 
of  the  hunters  flung  themselves  down  under  the 
trees,  and  drank  merrily  and  rested  in  the  deep- 
ening golden  light  of  the  afternoon,  but  Gunther 
sat  apart  from  them,  gloomy  and  silent,  like  one 
who  dreamed  sad  dreams,  and  could  not  arouse 
himself. 

At  last,  Siegfried,  noticing  his  depression,  said 
that  he  would  tell  him  the  story  of  his  boyhood, 
if  it  would  amuse  and  cheer  him. 


128  The  Story  of  the  Rhinegold 

And  sitting  down  on  the  stump  of  a  great 
tree,  with  his  shield  and  weapons  at  his  feet,  and 
on  all  sides  the  warriors  listening  eagerly  to  his 
words,  the  young  Volsung  began  his  tale,  and 
Hagen  stood  near,  leaning  on  his  spear,  a  look 
of  grim  expectation  on  his  dark  face. 

It  was  of  Mime  that  Siegfried  spoke  first, 
Mime  and  the  life  in  the  cave ;  the  forging  of 
Nothung,  and  finally  the  journey  to  Hate  Hole, 
and  the  slaying  of  the  monster  worm,  Fafner. 

He  told  how  the  Dragon's  blood  had  given 
him  power  to  understand  the  language  of  birds; 
and,  as  he  spoke,  memories  of  the  soft  woodland 
voices  and  the  rustling  of  the  trees  passed  ten- 
derly across  his  mind.  He  told  of  the  winning 
of  the  Rhinegold  Ring  and  the  Tarnhelm,  of  the  » 
treachery  of  Mime,  and  of  how  he  had  killed  him 
with  Nothung. 

Then  he  paused,  for  Hagen  came  up  to  him 
with  a  drinking-horn  filled  with  wine,  which  he 
bade  him  swallow,  saying  it  would  help  to  clear 
his  memory.  Siegfried  raised  it  to  his  lips  and 
drank,  and  Hagen  stood  near,  leaning  on  his 
spear,  and  smiling  grimly.  For  the  wine  had 
in  it  something  that  would,  indeed,  bring  back 
the  young  hero's  memory,  and  Hagen  knew 
that,  when  he  remembered  Briinnhilde,  he  would 


X 
> 

m 

> 
2; 

o 


O 
O 


On  the  Banks  of  the  Rhine  129 

be  as  one  deaf  and  blind  to  all  else,  and  would 
so  prove  an  easy  victim. 

Siegfried  put  down  the  drinking-horn,  and, 
after  a  moment's  silence,  resumed  his  tale,  while 
the  memory  of  the  forest  sounds  passed  softly 
and  constantly  across  his  brain.  He  told,  in  ten- 
der tones,  how  the  bird  had  sung  to  him  of  a 
glorious  bride  sleeping  amid  fire  far  away  ;  and 
of  how  he  had  passed  through  the  enchanted 
flame-circle,  and,  with  a  kiss,  awakened  her  from 
her  long  sleep;  and  he  spoke  her  name  with  such 
love  and  tenderness  that  even  Hagen's  wicked 
heart  should  have  been  touched  for  a  moment ; 
but  he  only  stood  leaning  on  his  spear  and  smil- 
ing—  always  smiling  —  as  one  smiles  who  has 
knowledge  greater  than  his  fellows. 

Gunther  started  up  wildly  as  Siegfried  whis- 
pered the  name  of  "  Brunnhilde  ";  for  the  Rhine 
Chief  understood  all  now,  and  realized  in  that 
short  time  what  deep  wickedness  it  must  have 
been  that  had  parted  the  noble  Volsung  and  his 
bride.  There  had  been  no  deceit,  no  treachery, 
no  broken  Oath  of  Brotherhood  —  none  of  the 
wickedness  had  been  on  the  young  hero's  side. 
Gunther  dropped  his  head  in  horror. 

But  Hagen  took  a  step  forward. 

"  See  you  those  Ravens?"  he  said,  slowly,  point- 
9 


130  TJie  Story  of  the  Rhmegold 

ing  to  two  great  black  birds  flying  upward  from 
the  Rhine.  They  were  Wotan's  King- Ravens, 
which  had  been  sent  out  to  bring  tidings  back 
to  Walhalla,  and  which  were  returning  there  with 
news  that  the  Dusk  of  the  Gods  was  at  hand. 
Siegfried  turned  to  gaze  after  them  as  they  flew. 
It  was  growing  late.  The  yellow  afternoon  light 
was  deepening  to  red  gold.  The  sun  was  set- 
ting. The  Ravens  flew  away,  their  broad  black 
wings  bathed  in  the  ruddy  light,  and  it  was  like 
the  light  of  a  great  fire. 

"  They  arouse  in  me  revenge !"  cried  Hagen, 
and  he  raised  his  spear  and  stabbed  the  young 
Volsung  in  the  back.  Siegfried  staggered  wild- 
ly ;  and  then,  raising  his  shield,  tried  to  crush 
Hagen  with  it.  But  then  even  his  great  strength 
left  him,  and  he  fell  back  upon  the  ground,  while 
the  warriors  drew  near  with  exclamations  of 
horror  and  faces  on  which  a  great  awe  had 
fallen. 

"  I  have  been  revenged,"  said  Hagen,  and  pass- 
ed up  the  rocks  and  out  of  sight  amid  the  grow- 
ing dusk.  The  sunset  was  as  red  as  blood  now. 
There  was  an  ominous  look  in  its  lurid  light — 
yet  a  strange  peace  also.  It  lay  on  the  head  and 
figure  of  the  young  hero  like  a  king's  crown  and 
robe. 


On  the  Banks  of  the  Rhine  131 

In  the  hush  that  had  fallen,  5^t<P^r}-"','(Viaised 
himself  upon  his  arm  and  spoke. 

He  spoke  of  Brlinnhilde,  his  bride ;  again 
he  seemed  to  be  on  the  Walkiires'  rock;  again 
she  lay  before  him  asleep ;  again  he  awakened 
her  with  a  kiss.  He  seemed  to  look  into  her 
eyes,  to  hear  her  voice ;  she  was  his  once 
more. 

And  with  the  words  "  Brlinnhilde  beckons  to 
me !  Greeting  !"  Siegfried  sank  back  and  died. 
And  the  last  light  from  the  setting  sun  went  out 
of  the  sky. 

It  was  very  dark — very  dark  and  silent.  The 
warriors  raised  the  hero  upon  their  shoulders  and 
bore  him  up  the  rocks.  After  a  while  the  moon 
rose,  and  the  pale  light  touched  the  helmets 
of  the  men  and  Siegfried's  armor  as  the  proces- 
sion passed  up  through  the  shadows.  A  mist 
was  rising  from  the  Rhine,  and  it  was  very 
still. 

Siegfried  was  dead,  the  last  of  his  race  —  the 
noble  race  of  Volsungs.  He  was  the  bravest  of 
them  all,  this  son  of  Siegmund  and  Sieglinde, 
who  had  so  loved  each  other.  He  had  done 
many  great  deeds  with  his  good  sword  No- 
thung.  He  had  been  a  courageous  man  and  the 
highest  hero  in  the  world,  and  he  had  won  the 


132 


The  Story  of  the  Rhinegold 


love  c 
And  he  v\ 


the  noblest  woman  ever  born. 
—Siegfried,  the  Volsung. 


g^t^ 


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»  B  1  1  -g-^-?- 


-1    •  Li^- 


v^^-tt 


ff 


M 


trf-T 


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^ 


i-^.. 


^^^ 


Death  Motif 


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^-^.-VT-f. 


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» — _" 


Motif  of  the  Dusk  of  the  Gods 


•         ^ 


CHAPTER  V 


THE   LAST   TWILIGHT 


Alone  through  the  great  hall  of  the  Gibi- 
chungs  wandered  Gutrune,  awaiting  Siegfried's 
return  from  the  hunt.  Going  to  Briinnhilde's 
chamber  in  the  hope  of  finding  a  companion 
in  her  anxiety,  she  saw  that  the  room  was  emp- 
ty, and  remembered  that  she  had  seen,  some 
time  before,  a  woman's  figure  descend  towards 
the  Rhine.  As  she  thought  of  her  brother's 
wild,  strange  bride,  Gutrune  shuddered.  She 
moved  restlessly  about  the  hall,  listening  for 
the  clear  horn  -  call  that  always  heralded  the 
coming  of  the  Volsung. 

Suddenly,  Hagen  appeared  with  a  look  of  tri- 
umph on  his  dark,  evil  face ;  and,  directly  after- 


134  T^fi^  Story  of  the  RJmiegold 

wards,  many  people  came  running,  in  wild  con- 
fusion, carrying  torches,  and  lamenting  the  hero's 
death.  And,  finally,  came  the  warriors  bearing 
Siegfried  upon  a  great  bier. 

With  wails  of  anguish,  Gutrune  flung  herself 
on  her  knees  beside  her  hero,  and  pushed  Gun- 
ther  away  wildly  when  he  strove  to  comfort 
her,  calling  him  the  murderer  of  her  husband. 

But  Gunther  denied  the  charge,  and  pointed 
to  Hagen,  accusing  him,  in  heart-broken  tones,  of 
having  slain  their  hero.  Hagen  answered,  with 
calm  defiance,  that  he  had,  indeed,  killed  Sieg- 
fried, and  that  he  now  demanded  as  booty  the 
Ring  that  gleamed  upon  the  finger  of  the  Vol- 
sung. 

Fiercely,  Gunther  claimed  the  circlet  for  his 
sister,  as  widow's  dower.  Hagen  sprang  forward 
to  attack  him,  and  the  half-brothers  fought  wild- 
ly together  for  the  Rhinegold  Ring.'  At  last, 
with  an  exultant  gesture,  Hagen  raised  his  sword 
above  his  head  ;  for,  at  his  feet  lay  Gunther,  the 
Gibichung — dead. 

"The  Ring!"  cried  the  Nibelung's  son,  and 
he  sprang  to  the  bier.  But,  ere  he  could  touch 
Siegfried's  hand  where  gleamed  the  circlet,  it 
raised  itself  threateningly.  And  even  Hagen 
started  back  in  terror.    On  all  sides  people  trem- 


The  Last   Twilight  135 

bled  with  fear  and  horror.  Gutrune  screamed 
wildly  as  her  eyes  encountered  her  brother's 
body  on  the  ground. 

Into  this  place  of  sorrow  and  confusion  came 
a  tall  woman,  robed  in  white,  with  a  face  most 
beautiful  in  its  gentleness  and  strength ;  and  be- 
fore so  calm  and  tender  a  gaze  the  crowd  part- 
ed, as  though  in  awe,  to  let  the  woman  pass. 

It  was  Briinnhilde,  who  had  heard  from  the 
water -maidens  everything  that  had  happened 
on  the  shores  of  the  Rhine.  She  understood  all 
now.  She  understood  that  he  had  never  been 
false,  knowingly ;  that  his  last  loving  words  had 
been  of  her — and  her  alone.  And  she  had  come, 
with  her  great  wisdom  and  her  great  love,  to 
bring  peace  to  the  turbulent  hearts  gathered 
about  Siegfried's  bier. 

She  stood  for  a  long  time  gazing  down  on  the 
face  of  her  hero — "  The  highest  hero  of  worlds," 
she  called  him.  She  looked  around  her  and 
smiled  upon  the  confusion  and  sorrow,  and,  be- 
fore the  tenderness  and  solemn  sweetness  of  that 
smile,  the  confusion  seemed  to  die  away  and  the 
sorrow  seemed  but  as  something  too  small  to  be 
shown. 

Piteously,  Gutrune  sobbed  out  v/ords  of  regret 
for  the  wrong  which  had  been  done  Briinnhilde, 


136  TJie  Story  of  the  Rhincgold 

and  reproached  Hagen  for  his  share  in  the  plot. 
But  Briinnhilde  hardly  heard. 

In  slow,  solemn  tones,  she  ordered  a  funeral 
pyre  to  be  lighted  on  the  banks  of  the  Rhine, 
and,  bending  over  Siegfried,  she  spoke  tenderly 
of  his  love  and  of  his  nobility  and  truth. 

Then,  turning  away,  she  raised  her  arms  on 
high  and  broke  into  sublime  words,  in  which 
she  reproached  Wotan  for  his  wrath,  and  added 
that  already  his  Ravens  were  on  their  way  to 
Walhalla  to  carry  the  long-deferred  tidings  of 
the  last  Twilight — so  close  at  hand. 

"  Rest !  Rest !  O  gods  !"  she  said,  softly,  and 
paused.  She  turned  towards  Siegfried  again  and 
drew  the  Ring  from  his  finger.  Then  she  spoke 
to  the  three  invisible  Rhine  children,  and  told 
them  to  take  the  circlet  from  her  ashes  when 
she  had  been  burned  with  her  hero. 

The  pyre  was  erected  now,  and  Siegfried's 
body  had  been  placed  upon  it.  Grani  was  led 
in,  and  Briinnhilde  laid  her  arm  upon  his  neck 
tenderly,  and  spoke  of  the  warrior  who  was  dead 
and  of  the  leap  into  the  flames  they  were  both 
about  to  take.  Wildly,  she  seized  a  torch  and 
lighted  the  pyre ;  and,  as  the  flames  rose  high, 
she  sprang  upon  the  horse's  back  and  raised  him 
for  a  leap. 


The  Last   Twilight  137 

"  Siegfried  !  Siegfried  !  See  !"  she  cried — and 
her  voice  echoed  both  far  and  near.  "  Gladly 
greets  thee  thy  bride  !" 

Into  the  flames  sprang  Grani,  the  stanch  war- 
horse,  and  the  Walkiire  was  gone  from  the  eyes 
of  men  forever.  But,  behold  !  Her  deed 
brought  release  from  the  sin  and  sorrow  of  many 
years. 

The  flames,  rising  high  and  higher,  made  a 
great  fiery  wall  between  the  earth  and  sky.  The 
Rhine  Maidens  swam  up  to  the  shore  and  caught 
a  bright  circlet  lying  near  in  the  midst  of  a  heap 
of  ashes.  Hagen,  springing  after  it,  was  lost  in 
the  Rhine's  rushing  waters  forever. 

But  now  a  wonderful  sight  met  the  gaze  of  the 
awe-stricken  people  crouching  in  the  hall  of  the 
Gibichungs. 

In  the  high  heavens,  Walhalla's  stately  towers 
appeared  in  a  bright  ring  of  fire.  The  fagots 
made  from  the  World -Ash  had  at  last  caught 
fire.  Dimly  could  be  seen  the  great  array  of 
gods  and  heroes  awaiting  the  Last  Twilight, 
and  the  end. 

Wildly,  and  still  more  wildly,  leaped  the  flames. 
Walhalla  was  surrounded  with  red  fire — it  could 
no  longer  be  seen.  A  fearful  light  glowed  upon 
earth  and  heaven. 


138 


The  Story  of  the  RJiinegold 


Lo !  the  Dusk  of  the  Gods  was  come. 
*  *  *  *  * 

And  that  was  how  the  Last  Twilight  came  to 
Walhalla,  and  how  Briinnhilde  Hfted  the  spell  off 
the  world  and  expiated  the  old  sins  of  so  many- 
years  before. 

And  that  was  how  the  Golden  Age  came  to 
an  end,  and  a  better  and  nobler  era  of  truth  and 
happiness  reigned  upon  the  earth. 

So  the  enchanted  Rhinegold  came  back  to  the 
hands  of  its  first  guardians — the  maidens  of  the 
river ;  and,  after  great  sorrow  and  turmoil,  there 
was  at  last  peace. 


Jr-i  3i-^l  h 


♦-^ 


Motif  of  Briinnhilde's  Expiation 


FINIS 


^^, 


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